


Unexpected

by avdubs, oeuvre24



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, F/M, Half-Blood Prince AU, Potions Class
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 332,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5843449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avdubs/pseuds/avdubs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oeuvre24/pseuds/oeuvre24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione was not expecting Harry to outshine her in Potions, and she was certainly not expecting an unlikely friendship with Draco Malfoy to form because of it. Alternate HBP leading to DH.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Corruption

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new collaboration story between myself and oeuvre24 (who will be posting this story on ff.net!) 
> 
> The first chapter is written by oeuvre24. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Come on…” Hermione pleaded in a whisper as she stared down at her cauldron, stirring the purple liquid within counter-clockwise,  _ just  _ as her copy of Advanced Potion-Making said. She chewed her bottom lip, hoping that her potion would turn to the pale pink colour it was supposed to before class ended. She wanted — no,  _ needed _ — the Felix Felicis to save until it came time for her to study for her exams. She would never use it for the actual exams as, one, she knew she could pass them without the aid of liquid luck, and two, it would be  _ cheating _ ; absolute, despicable, unfair cheating. If she had liquid luck during her preparation time, then maybe she would retain things that didn’t quite stick in her mind as much as she wanted too. She needed to win.

 

“Time is up!” Slughorn’s voice sounded through the room. “Everybody step back from your potions and I will come to check which one of you will have the honour of having your own dose of liquid luck!”

 

“No!” Hermione hissed and glared down at her potion which hadn’t turned the pale colour it was supposed to according to her book.  _ What  _ had she done wrong?! Her knuckles went white as she picked up her textbook, gripping the pages tightly as she looked over the instructions once more. “Cut the valerian roots…Yes, I did that…” She muttered to herself, “Become a ‘smooth, blackcurrant-coloured liquid’, yes, mine did that…Stir counter-clockwise…  _ What  _ did I do wrong?” She furrowed her brows. Her grumbling hadn’t been the only complaints in the class, as the majority of other students frowned and consulted their friends as to where they had gone wrong. Everyone except…

 

“Excellent work, Harry!” Slughorn praised Harry, patting him on the back causing the boy to jolt forward slightly from the force. “A perfectly brewed potion and well deserving of some Felix Felicis,” the Professor smiled widely and removed his hand from his rounded stomach to grab the vial of liquid luck and hand it to Harry who grinned and looked at the golden liquid.

 

Hermione couldn’t help but glare at the book that sat on Harry’s workbench — the book that had barely legible scribbles which he  _ insisted  _ were the right instructions. Not to Hermione they weren’t; if they were the right instructions, they would have been written by Libatius Borage in the first place, not jotted in by a student from years and years ago, judging by the state of the textbook. Of course she was happy for Harry, she wasn’t  _ that  _ bitter that he had won the Felix Felicis… She was only bitter over the fact that if he had followed the same official instructions that she had, then she would have had a better chance at making the most perfect potion in the class.

 

She wasn’t the only class member who seemed rather annoyed that they had missed out on the prize that would make twelve hours of their lives the luckiest and best they would experience. After everyone had cleaned their work stations, they left the classroom, Ernie saying a quick goodbye before heading to the Hufflepuff common room, and Hermione waved and gave him a small smile. When she looked back for Harry and Ron, Draco cut in front of her with brows pulled down to his eyes which flashed in anger as he looked at her for only a second, his lips turned into a sneer as his shoulder bumped against hers as he pushed past. “Do you mind?” Hermione snapped but the blonde ignored her and she watched him stalk down the dungeon hallway and around the corner.

 

“Did Malfoy do something?” Ron asked her as he came closer, watching Malfoy retreat too.

 

“Just being his usual self,” Hermione brushed off and held her books tighter to her chest. “Ready to go?” She asked and then looked at Harry. “Congratulations, Harry,” she told him, forcing her annoyance down. “I hope you wait to use it though, it isn’t every day you get Felix Felicis,” she sniffed.

 

“I know, Hermione,” Harry rolled his eyes and pocketed the small vial. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe until I truly need it.”

 

Hermione nodded and walked in front of her best friends, wanting to get back to the common room to drop off her Potion books in exchange for her Ancient Runes homework which needed to be done sooner rather than later. “Mate,  _ how  _ did you make that potion so bloody brilliant?” She heard Ron ask Harry. “Mine looked like something you’d find at the bottom of the Black Lake…”

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was fifty minutes into writing her fifteen inch essay for Ancient Runes when she sat up straight in her chair, wincing as her shoulders cracked uncomfortably from being in the same position for so long. She looked down at her writing, satisfied at what she’d managed to achieve, then stood up from her chair, needing to search the bookshelves for a copy of Spellman’s Syllabary, the one book she hadn’t brought with her to the library, not thinking she would need it. She walked to the stacks, straight to where various books on the Study of Ancient Runes were kept, and as she trailed her fingers over the bindings of the books, looking for the one she needed, she heard a muffled voice.

 

“—like Potter needs it.  _ I  _ needed it—”

 

Curiosity took over as she recognised the voice and heard Harry’s name spoken, so she moved closer to the shelving and quietly moved a book from its space to see if it would help pass the sound through to her.

 

“Everyone said they needed that potion, Draco,” a deeper voice, one she didn’t recognised, answered, and Hermione really had to strain to hear through the shelf, but now she knew that it was Malfoy that was complaining — which didn’t surprise her.

 

“You don’t get it, Blaise,” Draco snapped.  _ Ah _ , she thought,  _ he’s talking to Zabini _ . She had never had much to do with Blaise although he had been in a few classes with her over the years and now they were in the Slug Club together. “I  _ need  _ that potion.”

 

“For—”

 

“Shut it!” Malfoy hissed and the boy’s voices were muffled as they spoke quiet enough that Hermione could no longer hear.

 

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” she heard Zabini snap and she wondered if Draco had said something to offend him.

 

“Whatever… Pansy will be waiting for us in the common room.”

 

“Come find us when you lighten up a bit.”

 

Hermione heard retreating footsteps — of Blaise, she assumed — and she quickly looked back to the books on the shelf, pretending to read the spines. She heard a low growl of annoyance from the other side of the shelf, then a few muttered words which she wasn’t quite able to decipher, then silence. She wondered if Draco had left too, but she hadn’t heard his footsteps leave.

 

“He doesn’t bloody deserve it,” Malfoy muttered, and Hermione heard. While she didn’t think that Harry wasn’t deserving of the Felix Felicis, she thought there were better ways —  _ proper  _ ways — that he should have won it. Hermione spotted the textbook she needed and took it from the shelf, making several others fall on their sides. The other side of the bookshelf was clear and her eyes widened when she saw Draco turn his head and glare at her. “What are  _ you  _ gaping at?”

 

“I’m not gaping at anything, Malfoy,” Hermione responded quickly and narrowed her eyes.

 

“Then stop looking at me.” He looked away from her and down at an open book in his hands.

 

Hermione first thought she should take her book back to her table and continue on with her essay, but all she could think about was the tiny vial of potion that had everyone in her class in desperate want. “I thought it was unfair too…” She spoke and saw the muscle in his cheek jump as he clenched his jaw.

 

“You thought  _ what  _ was unfair?” He asked sharply.

 

“Potions,” Hermione said. “With Harry winning the liquid luck.”

 

_ That _ got his attention, and he lifted his eyes from the book in his hands and glanced over at her. His hair almost hung over his eyes and it was the first time, she realised, that she’d seen him without buckets of gel plastering his hair to his head. “I never thought I’d hear you speak ill of your wonder boy,” he snorted and looked away from her again.

 

“I followed the instructions  _ perfectly _ ,” she ignored his jab. “ _ Perfectly _ , Malfoy, I did  _ nothing  _ wrong at all and Harry still won.”

 

It was a few seconds before Draco responded again. “I followed it word for word, too,” he said, quieter, almost like he thought if he didn’t look at her and didn’t speak in a normal conversational tone, that he wasn’t  _ really _ speaking to her.

 

“See what I mean?!” Hermione sighed in exasperation. “And all my potion did was turn—”

 

“Purple.” They both spoke at the same time.

 

Her eyes met his when he looked up. “It was completely corrupt.”

 

“Potter’s never been good at Potions compared to us,” Draco said. “The both of us are top of the class,  _ he  _ doesn’t deserve the prize.”

 

Hermione’s eyebrows raised after she heard what he had said. Although he hadn’t explicitly said she was great at Potions, he  _ had  _ complimented her. “Y—”

 

He recognised his mistake and he glared at her. “Why are you talking to me, Granger, shouldn’t you be pandering to Potter and Weasel? I’m sure they don’t know how to breathe without you telling them how to do it,” she snapped and shoved the book he was holding back into the shelf and stormed out of the aisle.

 

Hermione hadn’t had time to react to his comment and merely blinked at where he had been standing a second ago. She hadn’t been planning on calling him up on his accidental complimenting of her, but knew why he had disappeared so quickly. What would his cronies think if they knew he had been speaking to  _ her _ . Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted, thinking of how easily swayed some people could be. When she looked back the shelf, she realised that Malfoy had shoved the book he was reading, back into the shelf the wrong way with the spine facing towards her. “Vanishment and Conjuration: A Study,” she read aloud and furrowed her brows. Why in Merlin’s name would Draco Malfoy be needing to read a book so complex in nature?

 

She shook her head and let out a breath; she had more important things to think about, like her Ancient Runes essay and translation homework,  _ not  _ what Malfoy was currently reading.

 


	2. Frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me!

Hermione flipped through The Daily Prophet whilst she sipped at her pumpkin juice. As her eyes scanned the business section, her mind began to wander back to what had happened in the library with Malfoy. She would never have thought it was possible that she and Malfoy had something in common. Actually, they had two things in common, as he had subconsciously pointed out. She was still a bit dumbfounded that Draco Malfoy had complimented her… Sort of. At the very least, he had acknowledged her intelligence. 

 

“Anything in there worth knowing?” Harry asked, nodding at the newspaper propped up in front of her. 

 

“What?” She asked, not having paid attention, and shook her head. “Erm, no. Nothing actually. Nothing new anyway.” 

 

Harry seemed to think her response was sufficient enough and he nodded then returned to his toast and sausages. Hermione happened to glance towards the Slytherin table and felt her breath catch in her throat when she saw Draco looking directly at her. As soon as he saw her looking, however, he averted his eyes. Hermione cleared her throat and returned to her breakfast. 

 

* * *

 

 

Upon entering her Ancient Runes class, Hermione had been shocked to realize that Draco was also in attendance. How had she not noticed yesterday? She sat in the same seat she had the day before, closest to the door and right up front. Draco, however, had chosen a table at the very back, right by the windows. Interesting choice, she thought. 

 

Every so often, Hermione would chance a glance back at him and each time, he wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to what was being taught. He did nothing but stare out the window or scribble something — something that she was quite sure had nothing to do with Runes —  furiously on a piece of parchment. Over the years of classes shared together, Hermione knew that he normally always payed attention.

 

Professor Babbling called on the Hufflepuff boy sitting next to her, snapping Hermione back to reality. She shook her head and scrambled to copy the lines of notes she had missed. Now was not the time to fret over what Draco was doing. Harry was already obsessed enough for the both of them. 

 

* * *

 

 

In Potions later that day, Hermione sat with Harry, Ron and Ernie as she had the day before. Professor Slughorn instructed them on which potion they would be brewing today and what page of Advanced Potion-Making they would find it on, then plopped himself down behind his desk. Hermione could already feel the tension settling in her shoulders and was willing to bet Harry’s potion would be deemed the best once again.

 

For the first time, Hermione found herself wishing that she would be wrong. 

 

When she discovered that she needed more slivers of dragon liver, she made a mental note to stop at the small Apothecary in Hogsmeade and made her way to the spare stock of ingredients. As she passed the rows of tables, her eyes fell on Draco, who was glaring at Harry. At least he’s still bothered by this, she thought to herself. 

 

Hermione read every line of the instructions three times over and murmured them out loud to herself twice before acting on it. She had to be absolutely sure she did it correctly. She didn’t even bothering stealing glances at Draco to see if he was working just as diligently as she was. 

 

Harry attempted to tell her an alternative way to chop the roots, but she brushed him off. She was not going to follow the advice of this so called Half-Blood Prince. Harry merely shrugged and said, “Suit yourself.” 

 

By the end of the lesson, her hair was a disastrous ball of frizz and her potion was only a shade darker than what it needed to be. When Slughorn had announced that Harry’s potion was yet again perfect, she had wanted to smash her cauldron on the ground. Even Ron looked disgruntled. Harry was beaming as he packed up his ingredients and books and slung his bag over his shoulder. 

 

“You go ahead,” she said when she noticed Harry and Ron lingering. “I have more to clean up than you did.” 

 

The boys accepted her excuse and left, eager to get back to the common room. Hermione took her time cleaning her cauldron, tidying her table and packing her bag. It was only when she heard Draco’s voice that she realized she was not the only one who had stayed behind. 

 

“Sir, have I ever mentioned that my great-grandfather on my mother’s side was—” 

 

“Ah,” Professor Slughorn interrupted, holding up a hand. “I’m sorry, Mister Malfoy. I really must be going. Lessons to prepare… You understand.” 

 

Draco looked annoyed by the dismissal but nodded. “Of course, sir.” 

 

Hermione stuffed the rest of her books into her bag and left her table at the same that Draco was walking by. He was a few paces ahead of her and didn’t bother to look her way once. It was as they were slipping out the dungeon doors, she heard him mumble, “I did everything perfectly. I reread every bloody instruction.” 

 

“So did I,” she said quietly. 

 

His footsteps faltered and Hermione stopped behind him. But after a moment, he kept walking.

 

* * *

 

 

It took every ounce of self-control she had to not snatch that Potions book out of Harry’s grasp. All evening he had been sitting by the fire, pouring over that book, whilst she had broken three quills and had to re-do her Charms essay twice. 

 

After her third and final attempt at finishing the essay, she packed up her books and tucked her completed essay away safely.  “I’m going to bed,” she said to Harry and Ron. 

 

They both nodded and bade her goodnight. Harry, however, didn’t even bother looking up from the book. 

 

* * *

 

 

Wednesday passed peacefully for Hermione. It was her only Potions free day of the week and at the end of her lessons, she knew was going to cherish every Wednesday for the rest of the school year. 

 

She learned that Draco was in her Arithmancy class, which surprised her a bit. They hadn't ever shared this class before, but as usual, he didn’t look at her or speak to her, which was fine. 

 

The rest of her day flew by. Classes were already demanding and more intense than previous years. Even Transfiguration was a slight struggle these days; she’d never had to ask Professor McGonagall to repeat instructions before. Defence class was a nightmare thanks to Professor Snape, but nothing short of what she expected now that the sallow looking man was their teacher. 

 

She had made the right decision in retreating to the library for the evening, so as to avoid being around Harry and his precious Half-Blood Prince. With a sufficient amount of homework done and after working on non-verbal spells, she went back to Gryffindor Tower and straight to bed. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione had been in a good mood until she glanced at her schedule and remembered they had Potions that morning.  _ Fantastic _ , she thought to herself,  _ Slughorn will be all over Harry again _ . 

 

She hardly spoke to Harry and Ron on the way to breakfast and during Herbology, even Ron seemed to be on the quieter side. Neither one of them felt like arguing with Harry, it seemed. 

 

When they arrived in Potions, Hermione made a bold move and sat at an empty table closer to the front of the classroom. She saw Harry’s jaw tense and his hands curl into fists and she knew they would probably argue about it later. For now though, she didn’t care. She needed to concentrate and that stupid book was proving to be too much of a distraction. Maybe if she couldn’t see Harry using it, she wouldn’t think about it as much…

 

While there was still a tiny voice in the back of her mind reminding her about that book, it was much easier to concentration without her best friend practically cheating his way to the top of their class. Well, Potions class at least, but cheating nonetheless. 

 

Her attempts remained futile. Professor Slughorn didn’t even make it around to every cauldron before announcing Harry’s potion as perfect. Hermione was seething now. She bottled some of her potion and vanished the rest, hastily cleaned up her station, packed her bag and practically bolted out of the dungeon. 

 

* * *

 

 

Later that day, in Ancient Runes, she happened to glance behind her and noticed Draco looking at her. When their eyes locked, he shook his head and scrunched his features. She nodded subtly and rolled her eyes. “It’s ridiculous,” she mouthed. 

 

He nodded in agreement. 

 

“Mr. Malfoy, is there something you would like to share with the rest of us?” Professor Babbling snapped sternly. 

 

Hermione returned her gaze to her open textbook. Draco apologized and reassured their Professor it wouldn’t happen again. An hour and a half later, class was dismissed, and with four more chapters of reading and two pages of translations added to her mountain of homework, she made her way out of the classroom. 

 

“Angry today, Granger?” Draco asked from behind. 

 

She jumped. Why did he have to do that? 

 

“Aren’t you?” She hissed. 

 

“Of course I am,” he said seriously. “Difference is, I don’t put on a big show about it.” 

 

Hermione snorted. “You would have two years ago. Even last year, actually.” 

 

“Yeah, well, people change.” His tone was flat when he spoke. 

 

When Hermione turned around to retort, she saw that he was gone. She frowned in confusion as students passed by her.  _ Always so quick to  _ _disappear_ , she thought. 

 

* * *

 

 

Friday’s would fast become another favorite day of hers, she just knew it. Even though she had potions, it was her last class of the day, and right after breakfast she could spend her free period in the library and get some work done. 

 

And that was exactly what she did. The library was empty and quiet, exactly how she liked it. She managed to get a chapter of her Runes reading done, started her translations and finished the last few inches of her essay for Defence Against the Dark Arts. 

 

By the time Potions class rolled around, she felt thoroughly accomplished. Though she still had several chapters of reading to do this weekend and planned on practicing non-verbal spells, she had gotten most of her written homework done. 

 

She sat next to Harry again and even smiled at him, but her good mood quickly faded when Professor Slughorn completely ignored her raised hand to call on Harry instead — whose hand wasn’t even  _ raised _ by the way. When she accidentally stirred counter-clockwise eight times instead of seven, she slammed her fist on the table and cursed quietly under breath. 

 

The moment class was over and her bag was packed, she mumbled to Harry and Ron that she would be in the library. Ron nodded while Harry looked as if he were about to retort, but thought better of it. 

 

She mumbled under her breath the whole way to the library. Nothing about this was fair! She had always been the best. She’d worked her arse off to be the best, and suddenly, this book comes along and changes all of that? Harry didn’t seem to see the problem with the situation, which only angered her more. 

 

Hermione set her things down at her usual table and decided a stroll through the stacks was a good idea. That always seemed to calm her down. She started in the Charms section, made her way through Ancient Runes and paused in the Defence Against the Dark Arts section when she remembered she needed to check out a book anyway. 

 

She had just begun to browse the shelves when she heard shuffling on the other side. Assuming it was just another student, Hermione continued going about her business. She withdrew a book from the shelf and started to head back to her table. 

 

With her nose buried in the book, Hermione rounded the corner and felt her shoulder slam into something hard. 

 

“Watch where you’re— Oh, Granger,” Draco said in surprise and steadied her and frowned. “Walk much?” 

 

“Shut it, Malfoy,” she snapped. 

 

“Don’t be cranky with me when its Potter you’re angry with,” he shot back. 

 

Hermione sighed heavily, snapping the book shut and clutching it under her arm. “Professor Slughorn completely ignored me today!” She told him furiously. 

 

“I noticed,” he said quietly, then, “I want to know how he’s doing it.” 

 

Hermione bit her lip and hoped Draco didn’t notice. Even though she was angry with Harry, she wasn’t willing to expose his secret. Not to Malfoy anyway. It just...didn’t seem like a good idea. There was no telling what Draco might do with such information.  Malfoy was the farthest thing from their friend, and telling him would feel like a betrayal to Harry.

 

“Listen,” she said. “I’m as angry as you are about this, but I’ve got a lot of work to do, so I should go.” 

 

He shrugged. “Like I care, Granger. I’ve got things to do too, you know.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Malfoy.”

 

* * *

 

 

“It could belong to a woman, for all you know,” Hermione retorted coolly.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “ _Prince_ , Hermione. Why would they use that title if they were a woman?”

 

She couldn’t think of a logical response, which irritated her, so instead she returned to her essay (which she had to keep out of Ron’s grasp) and frowned at the parchment as though it were to blame.

 

Harry told her and Ron that he had to go to his meeting with Dumbledore and she wished him good luck.

 

“We’ll wait up for you, mate,” Ron said firmly. “Right, Hermione?”

 

Hermione glanced up from her essay. “Yes, of course.”

 

When Harry was gone, Hermione forced herself to push all thoughts of the Prince’s Potions book to the back of her mind. Even if she had wanted to do anything with the textbook she wouldn’t have been able to, she realised, as Harry had left everything behind on the table except for his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.  _ Really _ , she huffed in annoyance.


	3. Sabotage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24!

Hermione read the Daily Prophet and her lips curved down into a frown. “They’ve arrested Stan Shunpike for ‘suspicious Death Eater activity’,” she quoted and put down the newspaper so Harry and Ron could lean over to read too.

 

“There’s no way he could be a Death Eater,” Harry scoffed as he read. “If he is, I’d eat my own shoe…” He added in a mutter.

 

“He could be Imperiused,” Ron offered and looked away from the Prophet to get back to eating. “‘At’s what ‘ey did—” He started to talk with his mouth full but the glare Hermione gave him made him stop and swallow. “That’s what they did in the first War, the Death Eaters, I mean. Put people under the Imperius curse to do what they wanted.”

 

“You would think the Ministry would check that sort of thing before _imprisoning_ someone,” Hermione sighed and took a drink of apple juice from her goblet. “I think it’s about time that the Ministry hired people who actually know what they’re doing.”

 

“They’re just doing this to put people’s mind at rest,” Harry said and closed the Prophet. “Make people think they’re doing something.”

 

“Going about it the wrong way, then,” Ron shrugged and Hermione hummed in agreement.

 

“We should go to the pitch now,” Harry said a few moments later and stood up. It was the day of the Gryffindor Quidditch team tryouts, and while Hermione was not enthused at all to watch people make the same movements over and over, she had to be there to support Ron, who was trying out for Keeper, and Harry, since it was his first official duty as team captain.

 

On their way to the pitch together, they crossed the path of Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil which made Hermione wrinkle her nose. Both girls had been staying up in the dormitory at night, giggling and whispering away about boys Hermione suspected, as she had heard Ron’s name mentioned quite a few times by Lavender, which made her more annoyed than she wanted it to. Hermione strayed behind Harry and Ron a few steps and wished them both good luck before departing for the stands.

 

The tryouts went for so much longer than she thought they would due to the sheer amount of people who wanted on the team, and when it came time for the Keepers to show their skills, Hermione finally paid her full attention to what was happening. She watched as McLaggen saved one, two, three, _four_ goals and looked ready to save the fifth and final one. Hermione held her wand inconspicuously and pointed it in the direction of him and whispered, “Confundus,” under her breath and as the Quaffle flew to the goal, McLaggen shot in the opposite direction of it. Hermione smiled and laughed quietly under her breath, turning away so no-one could see. She then just hoped that Ron would be able to save all five goals. The only reason she’d caused McLaggen to miss was due to the fact that she didn’t think she, Harry, or _anyone_ with the power of hearing, would be able to deal with Ron’s whining and self-depreciation if he didn’t get the spot as Keeper on the team.

 

Thankfully, Hermione’s little spell worked wonders, and Ron won the position of Keeper… _Sort of_ fair and square. She descended from the stands and made her way across the pitch to Harry and Ron with a grin on her face. “Well done, Ron!” She said. “I knew you’d get it!”

 

“Thanks,” Ron’s ears turned red as he spoke. “Did you see McLaggen though? What an idiot, even _I_ wouldn’t make that mistake, I mean—” He continued to speak and Hermione smiled and nodded, her and Harry listening to him as they made their way to Hagrid’s hut to explain why they weren’t doing Care of Magical Creatures any longer; something Hermione was _not_ looking forward to doing.

 

* * *

 

 

The next week passed by in a blur of classes, homework, headaches and Harry’s incessant fixation on accusing Draco Malfoy as a Death Eater. Hermione was so tired of hearing such accusations that she’d learned to tune out whenever Harry spoke of it, allowing Ron to try and reason with their best friend that he was thinking too much into everything. Along with her annoyance of Harry’s continual blaming, she was becoming increasingly frustrated at how well Harry was doing in Potions due to the aid he was receiving from the Half-Blood Prince’s notes.

 

During one of their lessons, Hermione decided to remain at the same table as Harry and Ron, resisting the temptation to move closer to Slughorn’s desk as she had done the week before, and not be distracted by Harry’s textbook. She’d read her instructions ten times over, repeating them aloud five times before she did anything, hoping that by solidifying them in her mind, she would not mess up anything and would garner Slughorn’s praise on how _she_ truly was the best student in the class. As her potion simmered in her cauldron, she moved to the supply cupboard to gather two dead dung beetles to add, and found Draco gathering supplies too.

 

She looked at the jars on the shelves, trying to find what she was looking for. “Mine’s perfect so far,” she said in almost a whisper.

 

A few seconds later, his equally quiet reply came. “So is mine.”

 

“Harry’s still two steps behind,” she told him.

 

Draco was smirking when she turned her head slightly to look at him. “Now’s our chance then,” he said.

 

“Indeed,” she said with a small smile of her own as she found the jar containing dung beetles and took two from it, going back to her cauldron.

 

“Oh-ho, Harry!” Slughorn’s loud voice sounded. “You impress me yet again with a perfect concoction!”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said with a smug look on his face.

 

“Professor,” Hermione said, “I’m ahead of—”

 

“Yes, I’ve seen yours Miss Granger… Very good,” Slughorn said dismissively with a small smile, not even looking her way, and carried on walking to the Slytherin table, leaving Hermione red-faced in anger, glaring at Harry who was smiling down at his potion as he stirred it.

 

* * *

 

 

“Harry, _please_ stop it!” Hermione finally snapped and was met with the surprised looks of Professor McGonagall, Ron and Harry, the latter also taut with anger and frustration. It was a week into October and their trip to Hogsmeade had been turned into something none of them would have expected. Only twenty minutes ago, Hermione, Harry and Ron had watched Katie Bell be pulled up into the air, screaming loudly before being dropped to the snowy ground, convulsing and still screaming louder than Hermione ever thought possible. After following Hagrid, who carried Katie back to the hospital, they and Leanne — Katie’s friend who had been with her since leaving Hogsmeade — were taken to McGonagall’s office to explain what had happened. This had been where Harry brought up his absurd accusation of Draco being the person to give Katie the cursed necklace to deliver to the castle which Hermione thought was absolutely ridiculous!

 

Her snapping had come after Harry continually argued with Professor McGonagall who insisted there was no way Malfoy could have brought any dark item into the castle and that Harry’s accusations were on an extremely serious situation. “Hermione, you don’t understand,” Harry said to her sharply, looking at her with hard eyes. “Malfoy saw the necklace in Borgin and Burkes and bought it to give to someone in Hogsmeade to deliver to the castle. He put Katie under the Imperius curse, I know he did!”

 

“Mister Potter—” Professor McGonagall started just as Hermione started to speak too.

 

“Harry, no he didn’t—”

 

“He did!” Harry argued. “He reserved something from Borgin and Burkes, and it was that necklace!”

 

“I think you’re forgetting that I asked Borgin about the necklace. He didn’t say it was sold or reserved, he told me the price,” Hermione explained to him, her cheeks flushed in frustration that Harry was making such serious claims against Draco. She didn’t think that Draco would ever be capable of performing such a dangerous task of obtaining an object infused with such dark magic, and to deliver it to the castle no less! She didn’t think he was a Death Eater either, as Harry so claimed. After all, if he was, wouldn’t he be wherever Voldemort was, rather than in school, performing just as he always had, acting as he always did?

 

“It’s your fault that you can’t lie, Hermione, he saw right throu—”

 

“Enough!” Professor McGonagall said sharply just as Hermione was about to interrupt him to argue back. “You can’t blame Draco Malfoy simply because he visited the shop, Potter, and you cannot argue the fact that Hogwarts’ security has been considerably tightened and there is no way a student would be able to bring an item of dark magic in _or_ out of the castle.”

 

“But Professor, _he_ did—”

 

“ _He_ ,” Professor McGonagall interrupted, “Spent the afternoon with me in detention.”

 

While that was news to Hermione, she tried not to look to shocked and instead glared at Harry, hoping that he felt guilty for blaming an innocent person of committing a heinous crime. She was not against Harry, but her frustrations towards him were growing steadily with every passing day, whether it be through him blaming Malfoy, or from carrying around his blasted potion book, cherishing it more fondly than one would a pet. They were dismissed from McGonagall’s office and Harry and Ron shuffled close together to discuss what had just happened, Harry in a more angry tone of voice than Ron. Hermione decided to accompany Leanne to the infirmary to explain to Madame Pomfrey that some calming draught was much needed for the poor girl.

 

* * *

 

 

In her Arithmancy class, Hermione worked diligently to try and get as much work finished as she possibly could before lunch time, wanting to use her break between lunch and Potions to be for writing up her Herbology report that was due in a week’s time. Class time was drawing to a close, and Professor Vector called for attention from the students. “Excellent work today,” she beamed. “Before our class on Wednesday morning, I’d like you to read chapters six and seven of your textbook and write up a brief foot-long essay of the theory we went over today.” As she concluded her instructions, the bell rang for lunch and the sound of chairs scraping backwards filled the room.

 

Hermione’s stomach was rumbling something terrible as she stood up to pack her things. When she looked over her shoulder, she realised that only she, Dean Thomas and Draco were left. She hadn’t even noticed that the rest of the class must have packed up before the bell rang so they could get to lunch early. She pulled her bag strap over her shoulder, wincing at how heavy it was, and headed to the classroom door, following Dean.

 

Her steps faltered and she stopped briefly when she heard a quiet cough from behind her. “We’re making Volubilis today,” Draco mumbled quietly.

 

“I’ll read up on it before class,” Hermione responded in almost a whisper.

 

“Me too,” Draco said and walked slightly quicker so they were side-by-side for several seconds. “Make sure Potter’s distracted for a second or two when I give you a signal.”

 

“What?” Hermione asked in confusion and looked up at him but he had already sped off, walking away from her down the hall. _A signal?_ She thought. _What kind of signal?_

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione spent her break after lunch sitting in the library at her usual table near the back. Her copy of Advanced Potion-Making was open to page seventy-six and she was reading the instructions on how to make a Volubilis potion, used primarily for helping restore the voices of people affected by a silencing charm. “Add honeywater until the liquid turns pink…” She read quietly. “—a dash of Syrup of Hellebore added to turn the potion blue…” She continued reading down the page. “The potion should be the colour yellow when finished,” she finished. It seemed rather complex, with various units of measurement used for different ingredients and she wrinkled her nose when she realised Harry’s book most likely would have written in it, a way to cheat the _proper_ instructions.

 

She looked at the clock hung on the library wall and saw class would start in ten minutes, so she packed her things and headed to the dungeons to be there early. A few minutes after her arrival, Draco arrived too, and she would have asked him what he thought of the instructions, but he was walking alongside Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, the latter giving her a scathing look and mouthing, “ _Mudblood_ ,” with a smirk on his lips.

 

She sniffed and looked away from the group of Slytherins and waited for Harry and Ron to arrive. “Look, Slughorn’s little puppy has arrived,” Nott sneered when Harry came around the corner with Ron beside him. “How does it feel being Slughorn’s bi—”

 

Nott was cut short — and just as well — as the bell rang for class and Slughorn opened the dungeon door seconds later. “Oh-ho, what is happening here?” He asked, seeing Ron grab Harry’s shoulders to pull him back, and Blaise and Theo step forward to them. “I hope that there isn’t any trouble brewing…”

 

“No Professor,” Harry said through gritted teeth and glared at Nott, Zabini and Malfoy’s backs as they walked into class and turned to talk to Ron.

 

Just as he turned away, Draco looked at Hermione out the corner of his eye. “On my signal,” he whispered.

 

Hermione didn’t look at him and pretended she didn’t hear, only inclining her head slowly down in a makeshift nod, then walked through the door and headed straight to her normal table. “Stop it, Harry,” she murmured to her friend as he sat down and was still glaring at the Slytherin table. “None of them are worth it.” Harry calmed down some and Hermione gave him a small smile, almost her early apology for knowing Draco was going to do something to sabotage his potion. She then turned to the front of the classroom to listen to Slughorn give his instructions for what he wanted to happen for this class.

 

On Slughorn’s signal, the class set to work and Hermione started the small fire under her cauldron and got to work measuring out her ingredients, triple checking that her scales said the exact weight she needed of things before she continued. As she was dicing up bits of stewed mandrake, she looked over at Harry and saw him thinly slicing it. “You’re meant to—”

 

“I’m not following those instructions, Hermione,” Harry sighed impatiently. “I’ve never been this good at Potions before, and if I have to follow the Half-Blood Prince’s instructions to be brilliant at it, I’m going to do it.”

 

Hermione ignored him and followed the _correct_ instructions and continued to dice up the mandrake before adding it one-third at a time to her potion, adding in three clockwise stirs after every third. The potion turned a pleasant orange colour, just as it was supposed to at this stage and she smiled triumphantly. Looking at her book again, she remembered that she had to let her potion simmer until it turned a reddish-orange colour before proceeding to the next step. As it simmered, Hermione started to think of ways she could distract Harry for when she got the signal from Malfoy. She didn’t feel horribly guilty over what was going to happen, after all, she was just preventing Harry from cheating. The Prince’s instructions wouldn’t help him when it came to exam time and he couldn’t have his textbook in front of him to look at. So really, she thought she was doing Harry an incredible favour.

 

“Granger, has anyone ever mentioned to you how much you resemble Hagrid in this class?” A drawling voice sounded from behind Hermione and she turned around with narrow eyes to look at Malfoy.

 

“Shove off, Malfoy!” Ron snapped, the tips of his ears reddening in anger.

 

Draco simply smirked. “I don’t think she can hear me,” he bullied, looking Hermione in the eye and she noticed that one of his hands was curled into a fist, almost like he was holding something. She figured out that he was giving her ‘the signal’ but thought he could have a little more tact and do something like coughing or stamping his feet to alert her. _Malfoy’s not going to pass up an opportunity to make fun of me though; how unsurprising_ , she thought. “Can you hear me Granger?” He raised his voice in mocking. “I’m saying how shockingly similar your hair is to the big oaf.” Laughs sounded from the Slytherin’s table and Hermione could feel her cheeks reddening. She liked to think that Malfoy couldn’t get under her skin and that his petty insults were below her, but it was hard to ignore those sorts of comments — she did know, after all, that her hair was…rather unruly.

 

“Malfoy, piss off,” Harry snarled.

 

“Harry, don’t,” Hermione sighed. “Can I talk to you about something?” She ignored Draco and his jeering friends and nodded towards the supply cupboard. Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy, then checked his potion once and followed Hermione over to the supplies. Several seconds later, footsteps sounded as Ron joined them, which sort of made her plan a little difficult as she knew there would be fallout from what she would say.

 

“I’ll hit him if you want,” the redhead offered. “What an arse—”

 

“It’s fine, Ron,” Hermione brushed off. “It’s just Malfoy, I’m used to it.”

 

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Harry asked.

 

“Well…” Hermione wrung her hands together and looked apologetically at Ron. She hadn’t planned for him to follow too. “I was going to ask you if you were going to come to the next Slug Club get together. Slughorn really won’t shut up about you and—”

 

“I see,” Ron said bitterly and turned around to go back to the table. That gave Hermione an ample reason to look too and she saw that Draco had returned to his work station.

 

While she had been looking, Harry had been answering her. “—don’t want to, I don’t see the point of it,” he finished.

 

“Oh, okay,” Hermione nodded, pretending to be put off. “It was worth asking,” she gave him a small smile and walked with him back to their stations. She looked in her cauldron and smiled, pleased to find that her potion was the colour it was meant to be, and she picked up her Syrup of Hellebore to add a dash. The liquid turned blue and after three clockwise stirs and an ounce of mint sprigs, her potion turned the yellow that had been described in the book. Satisfied her potion was perfect, she started to put some in vials.

 

“What the—” Harry muttered and stared into his cauldron then consulted his text book. “I…What happened?”

 

“Mine’s the same!” Ron exclaimed, looking into Harry’s potion.

 

“What happened?” Hermione asked innocently after she had bottled most of her potion. She looked over Harry’s shoulder and tried to stifle her laugh as she saw his cauldron holding a goopy, purple substance.

 

“It was going perfectly!” Harry furrowed his brows and picked his book up to look at closely.

 

“I told you so,” Hermione commented with a gentle shrug of her shoulders. “You shouldn’t trust the book.” She ignored Ron’s look and Harry’s grumble and glanced over at the Slytherin table. When Draco looked up she gave him an inconspicuous thumbs up and she saw the smirk on his lips when he turned back to his bottling own potion.

 

It was the same yellow as hers.


	4. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me

Hermione was very much looking forward to rounds tonight. She was supposed to be paired with Draco and couldn’t wait to properly congratulate him on his little stunt in Potions. Harry clearly wasn’t going to learn this lesson any other way, and maybe now he would start to learn that trusting a few scribbled notes in the margins of an old textbook was a bad idea. 

 

She stood at the top of the Grand Staircase, leaning over the bannister, and watched the last of the students make their way to their respective dormitories. When they disappeared from her view, she checked her watch. It was almost quarter past ten.  _ Where is he? _ She thought.

 

The sudden sound of footsteps behind her brought on a sigh of relief. 

 

“Evening, Granger,” said the familiar voice of Draco Malfoy. 

 

A small smirk played on her lips but when she turned to face him, her expression quickly faded. He looked  _ awful.  _ There was a greenish tint to his skin and there were dark circles around his eyes. It had been a few days since she’d seen him around the castle; had be been ill without her even noticing? 

 

“Malfoy,” she frowned. “Are you alright?” 

 

“M’ fine,” he mumbled. He didn’t look fine, though. “Let’s just do our rounds.” 

 

She wanted to question him more, but noticed he didn’t look like he was in the mood for talking even though she still wanted to thank him for what he had done. They started on the seventh floor, walking slowly side by side. “Brilliant move, by the way,” she commented. “Ruining Ron’s potion too. He’s started copying off of Harry and it’s just so infuriating when--”

 

“Calm down, Granger,” Draco snapped. “It was for my benefit, obviously.”

 

She scowled but said nothing to retort his snippy comment. What was with him anyway? He was being much more of an arse than usual, and that was saying something. 

 

“It’s horrible what happened to Katie,” she said quietly after several minutes of silence. They were on the sixth floor now. All had been quiet so far. 

 

“Oi! Get back to your common rooms  _ now  _ or I’m taking twenty points.  _ Each _ !” Draco roared at two Hufflepuffs, who were caught in a somewhat compromising position behind a tapestry. The two younger students scampered off, leaving behind a shocked Hermione and an angry looking Draco. 

 

“Honestly, the sixth floor? You’d think they would stick closer to their common room…” He muttered as they picked up their pace again. 

 

Hermione hummed in agreement. She noticed, once again, how horrible he looked. The dim orange glow of the lamps did no justice to his normally pale features. He looked positively exhausted. Harry’s outrageous accusations echoed in her mind, but she brushed them off quickly. Sixth year was proving to be draining, and it was only a month or so into the term. Draco could be tired from the workload and prefect duties, that was a perfectly logical explanation. Much more logical than a sixteen year old being branded with the Dark Mark and attacking students. 

 

He never responded to her comment about Katie, and after pondering on this for a moment, she realized she had no reason to expect him to. Katie was a Gryffindor,  _ and _ she was on the Quidditch team. There was no reason for Draco to care at all what happened to Katie. So it really wasn’t all that strange... Was it? 

 

They finished the rest of their rounds in silence, something that only agitated Hermione. Draco was very fidgety and kept glancing back behind them. When she asked if everything was alright (again), he told her to mind her own business. She told him he didn’t have to be such a prat just because he was tired and he had fallen silent at that. 

 

When they reached the Entrance Hall an hour later, concluding their rounds, Draco wasted no time in retreating to the dungeons where his common room resided, without so much as a good-bye. 

 

* * *

 

 

“So Katie was moved to St. Mungo’s,” Hermione said briskly as she squeezed herself between Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table. “Leanne is still a mess, the poor girl.” 

 

Ron was piling scrambled eggs onto his plate and shot a sympathetic look towards Hermione. Harry leaned in towards the pair of them and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I hope Katie’s alright,” he whispered. “But I want to know who the real target was. There’s no way that necklace was meant for Katie…And of course, Malfoy’s heard about all this.” 

 

Hermione sighed inaudibly and shot a wary glance at Ron, who brought up when the first Quidditch Practice would be. It was enough to distract Harry from the topic of Katie, and inevitably, Malfoy. She and Ron had gotten quite good at redirecting conversations to avoid Harry spewing his theories about Malfoy  _ again.  _ He and Ron started rattling off their free times for the rest of the week, while Hermione dug out her Transfiguration homework. 

 

* * *

 

 

While Harry was at his lesson with Dumbledore that night, Hermione decided to head to the library to get some work done. She had an Arithmancy test coming up and she  _ needed  _ to be prepared. 

 

She was glad to be away from the boys for a little while; she could clear her head of Quidditch talk, Harry’s ridiculous theories about Malfoy, and the Half-Blood Prince. 

 

Hermione set up her books and notes at her usual table and set to work on going over her notes. When she reached her notes on chapter six, she saw she had written down some questions she originally had and a reminder to check out a book from the library. She repeated the title to herself and set out to find the book she required. 

 

She took her time examining the shelves, letting her fingers run across the worn and faded spines. It was when she nearly reached the end of the row that she heard the low murmuring of voices, and it was only the familiarity of the voices that made her stop in her tracks. 

 

“She deserves it as much as the other two. Why not sabotage the Mudblood?” 

 

_ Zabini.  _

 

She was shaking in anger. How could Malfoy tell Zabini about this? 

 

“I’ve got better and bigger things to worry about than sabotage against a Mudblood, Blaise,” Draco snapped irritably. 

 

Hermione’s jaw slackened in shock. She’d learned over the years to let the use of that word towards her roll off her shoulder, and she’d gotten awfully good at sticking her nose in the air and ranting about why that was ridiculous, but this time it hurt more than she was willing to let on. Draco was merely an acquaintance in reality, but they had something in common. They had, on several occasions, vented to one another, and that had felt nice for a change. Harry and Ron didn’t care about academics the way she did and Harry always had so much on his plate, she didn’t care to bother him with her worries and outrages. With the Half-Blood Prince involved, she couldn’t even vent to Harry about everything because it was Harry that she was frustrated with. 

 

But she’d been able to talk about this sort of stuff with Draco, however brief and irregular it was. His dismissal of her had stung a bit to say the least. 

 

“Yeah well, it’s not as if  _ that’s  _ making any progress, so why not have some fun in the meantime? Granger would freak out, it’d be hysterical,” Blaise retorted. 

 

She heard Draco growl followed by a loud thud. Hermione wished she could see them, but shuffling a bunch of books around would give her away. 

 

“Piss off, Blaise. Are you obsessed with her something?” Draco sneered mockingly. 

 

This seemed to shut Blaise up, as there was silence on the other side of the shelf. She heard the sound of fading footsteps and assumed one of them had left. Hermione took this opportunity to slip back to her table. 

 

When she returned, she realized she had completely forgotten about the book she’d needed, but she was too angry to study now. There was no way she was going to get anything done with the incessant worry that next Potions class, her work would be ruined. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was shocked when her Potion was left untampered with on Monday, then she thought perhaps Malfoy wanted her to feel secure. On Tuesday morning, she was a bundle of nerves as she headed down to the dungeons first thing after breakfast. She kept close to her cauldron the entire time, waiting for someone try and pull her away. No one disturbed her as she worked, however. 

 

Thursday remained the same as her two previous classes that week. She hadn’t even talked to Malfoy since their Prefects rounds and that was what kept her on edge. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Professor Slughorn has been begging me to get your schedule so he can invite you to his Christmas party, Harry,” she whispered as Professor Sprout explained what they would be doing this lesson. “Will you  _ please _ come?” 

 

It was rather annoying, actually. Professor Slughorn knew she existed when it came to pestering her about Harry, but when it came to Potions, it was if she were invisible. 

 

Ron made a disgruntled noise and bent down under the table to retrieve extra bowls for the pods they were supposed to be extracting from the vicious plants. 

 

“I don’t know, Hermione,” he said. “I don’t care for Slughorn all that much.” 

 

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. “They’re really not that bad.” 

 

Harry shrugged. 

 

“He brought Gwenog Jones to his last dinner,” she said. 

 

Both boys perked up at this. Hermione bit back her satisfied smirk. 

 

“Gwenog Jones?” Ron asked, astounded. “Like, Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies?” 

 

Hermione nodded. “The one and only.” 

 

Ron’s features twisted into an ugly sneer as he squeezed one of the pods. “Is this Christmas Party for Slughorn’s precious members only?” 

 

Hermione shot him a warning look and sighed in annoyance. “Yes, Ronald it is. Though, we’re allowed to invite a guest and I was thinking of asking you so that we could all go together, but I don’t think I want you to be my plus one if you’re going to be like this!” 

 

Ron’s ears turned red. He squeezed the pod even harder and a moment later there was a loud popping sound. Bright green slime exploded everywhere; all over the other plants, their clean bowls and their robes.

 

Hermione screeched and jumped back. Harry was looking for something to wipe the excess off with when Professor Sprout came over, shaking her head in a disappointed manner. 

 

“Clearly, you three weren’t listening when I told everyone not to squeeze so hard,” Sprout scolded. “You’re lucky this juice isn’t poisonous. Head up to the castle and clean yourselves up!” 

 

Ron looked furious as he set off towards the castle, not bothering to wait for Harry or Hermione. 

 

* * *

 

Ron hadn’t spoken to her since their conversation in Herbology, which had only dampened her already sour mood. She dreaded Potions because of Harry and his obsessions, and now Ron was giving her the cold shoulder. They were so frustrating sometimes! If Ron hadn’t been such an arse about Slughorn’s Christmas party, she probably would have asked him! It was the Yule Ball all over again...

 

Hermione knew Ron was angry with her, but she didn’t know he would move to an empty table. To her surprise, Harry joined him at the table, leaving Hermione alone. Ernie, it seemed, was absent from today’s class.  _ Of course,  _ she thought to herself.  _ This is the perfect opportunity for Malfoy to ruin my Potion.  _

 

They were experimenting with poison antidotes today, only making the lesson worse. 

 

Hermione got out her ingredients and replenished her stock with extra ingredients so she didn’t have to leave her station. Professor Slughorn told them they could start and Hermione set to work straight away, but every few seconds, she would glance up at Malfoy. Every time she looked, he was working just as diligently as she was. 

 

Thirty minutes in, she was peering into her cauldron to see if it had turned a dark blue as the instructions indicated it should be when she heard the sound footsteps passing by her table. She heard a thud and when she looked up, her book had fallen to the ground. She bent down quickly to retrieve it and when she stood back up, steam was billowing out of her cauldron. 

 

“No!” She cried, her cheeks turning red when several students turned around to look. 

 

Blaise was sniggering at his table. Her eyes narrowed and scanned the room until they found the head of blonde hair she was looking for. Malfoy was over at the supply closet, aimlessly rummaging through the potion ingredients. She glared at his back so intensely she thought she might burn a hole through his robes. He actually did it; he completely ruined her potion! 

 

She whipped around to see if Harry or Ron had noticed, but both were too focused on brewing. When she looked to see if Slughorn had seen, she saw he wasn’t even at his desk. In fact, he was nowhere to be found. The door to his office stood ajar, however. She wanted to scream. The one time he leaves the classroom, and it had to be that day! 

 

There was nothing she could do except try to remedy her potion -- which she failed to, despite stopping the mass amounts of steam -- and stew in her anger. What she wouldn’t give to hex Malfoy and Zabini right now... The next time she was alone with Malfoy, he was going to regret this, she would make sure of it! 

 

With only ten minutes left to go in class, Professor Slughorn asked for everyone to start cleaning up and bottling a sample of their potions. Hermione begrudgingly filled the vial with her ugly, paste-like green potion and turned to clean up her ingredients when she heard a loud gasp from behind her. 

 

“What the bloody hell!” Ron was looking between his cauldron and the rest of the class, his eyes wide and an incredulous look upon his freckled features. 

 

Harry looked furious and confused beside him, also staring down into his cauldron. 

 

Hermione looked over in Malfoy’s direction and saw a satisfied smirk settled on his lips. She couldn’t help the upward twitch of her lip, at least Harry and Ron had suffered too. 

 

“Where did our potions go?” Harry asked Ron.

 

“Mr. Weasley, correct?” Professor Slughorn said. “Watch your language, will you?” 

 

Ron’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He muttered something to Harry before they both started cleaning up their stations. Hermione didn’t even bother waiting for them and left before the two had even packed their bags. 

 

She did, however, wait farther along the corridor to try and catch Draco. What she would do, she didn’t know, but she was still shaking with anger over what he’d done to her work. She’d never provided a bad sample in Potions! Not once in six years and he had ruined that for her. 

 

She never saw Malfoy emerge from the classroom. Could she have missed him? Maybe he had left not long after her. He’d be gone by now if that were the case. She growled and gripped her books tighter to her chest.  _ He can’t avoid me forever _ , she thought. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was walking down the seventh floor corridor towards the Gryffindor Tower after being at the library. She was at the library a lot these days since Ron still wasn’t speaking to her and she didn’t want Harry to pick sides. She’d also not seen Malfoy in a while and still wanted to confront him about what he had done to her poison antidote.

 

She was tired from being in the library since dinner and her back was aching from carrying around her heavy textbooks all day, but all thoughts of sleep and her bed left her head as she saw someone walk around the corner -- someone with a blonde head of hair.

 

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. She picked up her pace, speeding towards him as fast as she could and her heart was beginning to pound as she fumbled for her wand in the pocket of her robes. All of her forgotten anger returned, hot and explosive as she marched towards him, wand clutched tightly in her hand now. 

 

“You!” She seethed, drawing up to full height and stepping directly in his path. 

 

His eyebrows raised momentarily before he cleared his expression. His eyes looked red and puffy, she noticed as he glared at her. Had he been crying? 

 

“ _ How _ could you do that?” She accused angrily, jabbing his chest with the tip of her wand. “There was no point to that!” Another jab. “You complete  _ arse _ !” Another jab and Malfoy yelped. 

 

When she withdrew her wand, she saw a hole in the white fabric of his shirt. 

 

“No point to it?” He sneered. “I saved you from Potter growing suspicious of why you weren’t being messed with too!” 

 

“Don’t lie to me, Malfoy!” She said warningly. “I heard you in the library with Zabini the other night! I know-” 

 

“So you were eavesdropping?” He shot back, looking even more angry now. 

 

Hermione stomped her foot on the ground and pulled her bag up higher on her shoulder. Draco towered over her in the dimly lit corridor, his arms tight at his sides and his hands curled into fists. 

 

“Maybe your friends shouldn’t discuss such things in public places like the  _ library _ , where there could always be someone listening!” She retorted. Draco huffed but didn’t seem to have an argument to that. Hermione wasn’t done, however. “And really, Malfoy, knocking my book off the table? Is that the best distraction you could come up with?” She asked with harsh laugh. 

 

“Will you just listen?” He snapped a little too loudly. 

 

They both looked around to see if anyone was coming. Draco grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a nearby alcove. She struggled the whole way but his grip was too strong. 

Once inside, he whipped out his wand and cast a silencing spell on her; her mouth was still moving but no sound came out. 

 

She was sure her face was red-hot now as she glared up at him. 

 

“Yes, Zabini suggested it, but I wasn’t going to at first,” he said in a low voice. “And then I thought Potter might grow suspicious. He might ask you why your potion wasn’t tampered with too.” 

 

He released the silencing spell and she hit him as hard as she could in the arm with her fist. 

 

“Ow! Granger what the-”

 

“Harry was supposed to think it was because he was following that book’s instructions!” She cried. 

 

His face fell at this realization. Clearly, he had forgotten about that aspect. 

 

“Shite,” he muttered and stared down at his feet. 

 

Hermione sighed. “Since Harry didn’t see anything, I can pass it off as my own mistake.” 

 

Draco nodded, not looking at her now. Hermione hit him in the arm again. 

 

“Granger, seriously-”

 

“I’m still angry at you,” she hissed before ducking out of the alcove and hurrying to Gryffindor Tower before he could follow.


	5. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by oeuvre24!

 

Hermione’s days were to go from bad to worse. The amount of homework she was receiving seemed to be doubling and most nights she had to study until midnight to ensure that everything was finished in the standard she was happy with. She thought, if she had one extra free period a day (like Harry and Ron, who most days had  _ three _ ), she would be on top of her work — maybe even ahead of everyone else! She wasn’t willing to drop a class though since she loved everything she was learning, and a bit of hard work and late nights was good preparation for next year when she would be studying for her N.E.W.T.s. Along with her added workload, Ron was now refusing to speak to her and every time he did, it was through gritted teeth, or with a sharp, angry tone of voice. He didn’t even  _ look  _ at her and would completely ignore her if she spoke to him. She hadn’t a clue what she had done wrong; she hadn’t been talking about the Slug Club and she wasn’t as vocal about her anger with the Half-Blood Prince. Whenever she asked Harry if he knew what she had done to upset their friend, he stumbled over his words and thought of an excuse to leave.

 

Her workload and issue with Ron wasn’t the only thing causing her headaches. Every Potion lesson she now had, she was on high alert. She sat with Ernie — as Ron refused to sit at their normal table and Harry followed him — and always had to make sure she never took her eyes off her cauldron. Her protectiveness and unwillingness to move away was noticed by her Slytherin classmates and quite often she would look over to see Nott do an impression of her, hunching dramatically over his cauldron and making gestures to his hair.  _ Really _ , she huffed.  _ You would think after six years they would have come up with another insult other than the state of my hair. _ She tried not to let it bother her and ignored them most classes, and Draco made no other attempt at sabotaging her  _ or  _ Harry and Ron’s potion. In fact, he didn’t even attend Potions, the last period of the day, on Friday, something that Harry had a lot to say about when they left class.

 

“He’s up to something,” Harry muttered and Hermione almost had to jog to keep up with him and Ron who was on Harry’s other side.

 

“No he’s not,” Hermione sighed and hitched her bag strap up her shoulder. “Maybe he’s just sick? He has been looking off.”

 

“Looking at Malfoy too, eh?” Ron snapped and Hermione’s eyes widened slightly at his angered tone. “Maybe want to snog him as well?”

 

“Ron, stop it, Merlin’s sa—” Harry tried to interrupt, just as annoyed with Ron’s moodiness as Hermione was.

 

Hermione stopped dead and glared at the redhead. “What have I  _ done _ , Ronald?!” She asked loudly and several students walking past, turned their heads. “If you’re not ignoring me, you’re biting my head off about something!”

 

“ _ Oooh _ ,” a deep voice sounded and Hermione looked behind her and saw Zabini, Nott and Pansy Parkinson walking up to them. “Trouble in paradise?” Blaise drawled and Hermione turned to face them fully.

 

“No, she’s just telling her pets off,” Pansy smirked. “What’s wrong, Granger?” She crossed her arms and took a step forward, eyes narrowing as her smirk grew. “Don’t they know how to give you what you ne—”

 

“Are you insulting a Prefect, Parkinson?” Hermione snapped and clutched her wand inside her pocket. 

 

“Oh, is  _ that  _ what you are?” Nott said sarcastically.

 

“We never would have guessed. Not with the way you walk around with your nose in the air, thinking you’re  _ so  _ much better than everyone else,” Pansy said darkly and tilted her chin up, purposely looking down at Hermione. The two girls were the same height as each other, but Hermione pushed her shoulders back and straightened herself up; she wasn’t going to be intimidated.

 

“Back off,” Ron snarled and stepped next to Hermione.

 

Blaise and Theo laughed loudly from where they stood next to Pansy. “And the guard dog comes out to play,” Nott drawled.

 

“Maybe he can help Granger remove the stick from her arse,” Pansy sniggered. “Although you never know,” she looked over her shoulder at her Slytherin friends, “Perhaps it was him and Potter that got it up there for her,” she said crudely and turned back to glare at Hermione whose cheeks were red in embarrassment and anger.

 

“Don’t say another word,” Harry spat, drawing his wand.

 

Blaise laughed louder and stepped forward, unperturbed. “What are you going to do, Potter?”

 

“Harry, don’t,” Hermione warned him, but her voice was weak. It was difficult to hear such blatant insults towards her and not feel the sting.

 

“Are you going to hex me?” Blaise asked, almost in challenge, and Harry pushed his wand into Blaise’s chest.

 

Harry’s movement caused Pansy and Theo to both draw their wands, and Hermione pulled hers out of her pocket to point at Parkinson. “No-one’s hexing anyone,” Hermione said sharply and saw Ron point his wand at Theo.

 

“Of course not. You Gryffindors are cowards through and through,” Theo sneered.

 

“Say that again,” Ron threatened, lifting his wand to aim at Nott’s face.

 

“Ron,  _ don’t _ ,” Hermione pleaded.

 

The Slytherin’s laughed. “ _ Oh, Ronald, don’t save me _ !” Theo mimicked Hermione.

 

“ _ What  _ is going on here?!” Professor McGonagall called out, seeing the group of six students with their wands drawn, surrounded by other students who had neglected going to class in favour of watching the fight.

 

But it was too late. As McGonagall called out, Ron had already lowered his wand and thrown his other fist forward, knocking right into Nott’s jaw, sending him stumbling backwards. “You fucking—” Theo growled and charged back forward. Hermione let out a shriek as Harry tried to intervene but Blaise cut in, throwing a punch to Harry’s stomach which caused him to curl forwards.

 

“Don’t hit him!” Hermione yelled and pointed her wand at Zabini but Parkinson stepped forward and  grabbed Hermione’s wrist tightly before she could do anything.

 

“Enough!” McGonagall’s yell sounded but no-one except the onlooking students heard.

 

“Get your hands off me!” Hermione yelled at Pansy, yanking her hand back but the other witch had a firm grip. Hermione was so angry, a red spark came from the tip of her wand and caught Pansy in the leg, making her stagger back, glaring.

 

“You bi—”

 

“ _ Enough! _ ” McGonagall had magically increased the sound of her voice, so that everyone stopped what they were doing. A split second later, they were thrown backwards, Harry, Ron and Hermione pinned to one wall, and Pansy, Blaise and Theo to the other, McGonagall having done so with a flick of her wand. “Doesn’t everyone have class to go to?” She yelled sharply at the other students who scampered off quickly, clearing the hallway.

 

Hermione looked down at the ground in shame. She was not this kind of person, to be caught in so much trouble. She’d never seen Professor McGonagall look so angrily at her before. On the other wall, Theo was still glaring at Ron, with a trickle of blood coming from his bottom lip. Pansy’s stocking had ripped where Hermione had lost control and her wand let out a spark. Blaise looked livid as he glared at the Gryffindors, but still had a hint of smugness about him, knowing that they were in trouble too. Hermione didn’t look to Ron and Harry, too ashamed to raise her eyes.

 

“ _ Never  _ have I seen such a careless display of violence in the hallways,” McGonagall said sharply. “And from sixth years like yourselves! I would have thought better of all of you.”

 

“Zabini sta—” Ron muttered, but McGonagall was quick to cut him off.

 

“I don’t care who started what, or who drew their wands first,” she looked at every one of them. “All six of you were involved, and all six of you will be punished accordingly.”

 

Hermione’s stomach dropped, filling with dread. What if they took away her Prefect position? She’d never want to leave her bed again! The shame would be too much. What would she tell her parents who had been so proud of her?

 

“You will all come to my office immediately and if any of you so much as  _ look  _ at each other, you will wish you’d never been sent your Hogwarts letter,” McGonagall finished and relinquished the spell holding them to the walls. Hermione dropped onto her feet and quickly followed her head of house, with Harry and Ron right beside her.

 

_ Please don’t take my badge, please don’t take my badge, please don’t take my badge… _

 

* * *

 

 

“Of all students, Miss Granger… I would never have picked you to be involved in such a fight,” Professor McGonagall looked at her in disappointment. Hermione was sitting in the chair in front of McGonagall’s desk, with the older witch standing in front of her. “I realise you have gotten yourself into many situations involving Mister Potter and Mister Weasley, but I never would have  you drawing your wand on another student.”

 

“Professor, I can explain—” Hermione said, her voice barely higher than a whisper.

 

“Explain that Mister Zabini, Miss Parkinson and Mister Nott provoked you and your friends through insults? Yes, your friends made it quite clear what had happened…” McGonagall sighed and walked to the seat at her desk to sit down. “And while, unfortunately, I believe this to be true, the fact of the matter is, you still drew your wand to another student, and unintentionally or not, fired a spell.”

 

“But I didn’t mean to hit Parkinson with it, I don’t even know which spell…” Hermione stopped speaking when McGonagall held up her hand.

 

“You will be serving detention with me every Saturday afternoon for the next four weeks,” Professor McGonagall informed her. “And thirty points have been taken from you and your friends, as well as the three students from Slytherin.”

 

_ Detention… I can deal with detention, even though we’ve lost ninety points in the space of half an hour… _ Hermione thought and tried not to look too relieved. “Harry and Ron?” She asked after a few seconds.

 

“Harry will be serving detention with Professor Slughorn for four weeks, and Ronald with Professor Sprout.”

 

Hermione nodded and made to stand up. “I’m so sorry, Professor McGonagall,” she apologised, looking at her mentor. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

 

“It better not, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said, straightening a quill on her desk. “I would hate to take your badge off you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was dismissed from Professor McGonagall’s office and when she opened the door to get back to the hallway, she saw Harry waiting. “Hey,” she gave him a small smile.

 

“Hey,” he returned and then pointed at the badge on her robes. “You’ve still got it,” he smiled jokingly and she rolled her eyes.

 

“I’ve got detention for the next four weeks though.”

 

“Yeah, me too,” Harry shrugged.

 

“You’re not bothered?” She furrowed her brows and walked alongside him.

 

Harry shook his head. “I’ve had enough detentions, they don’t phase me anymore,” he said. “Plus, it was either detentions with Slughorn or no Quidditch tomorrow — you know which one I’d rather have.”

 

Hermione smiled at that. “I think I’m going to go to the library,” she said when they reached the staircase. “Might as well get started on my antidotes essay.” Harry nodded in understanding and said bye to her and she walked down to the ground floor. There weren’t many students around since the majority of people were in their common rooms before dinner, for which Hermione was glad. She wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone at that moment. “Hello Madam Pince,” she said politely to the library lady as she walked in and headed to her usual table.

 

She worked away on her essay as the sky turned dark outside and the clock ticked closer to dinner time. She was hungry — her stomach was letting her know very loudly — but she didn’t want to see the Slytherins that had tormented her a few hours ago, or Ron who was most likely back to being in a huff with her. She sighed and looked up from her parchment. She still had no idea what she had done to make Ronald despise her so much lately.

 

“Granger.”

 

Hermione turned around and looked for the owner of the voice that called out quietly to her. “Malfoy?” She asked back, having recognised him.

 

“Come here.”

 

“I don’t even know where  _ here  _ is,” she grumbled but got out of her seat and headed to the stacks where he most likely was. Sure enough, she found him standing by the Transfiguration books. “You have to talk to me between the bookshelves now? Too afraid to let anyone see you’re wasting your breath talking to me?” She narrowed her eyes.

 

Draco ignored her comment and gripped the books he was holding tighter to his side. “Do you have the Potion’s homework?” He asked.

 

“I might,” she sniffed.

 

He scoffed. “I know you have it. Can you tell me what it is?” He asked.

 

“Maybe if you’d come to class you would know,” she quipped.

 

“Yes, well I was sick.”

 

She stared him in the eyes and noticed that the dark circles under them looked slightly more pronounced than the last time she had seen him. He still looked as pale as he always did, but she noticed the tense way he held himself. His jaw was clenched and his arms were stiff, shoulders back. “Alright, well come to my table and I’ll write it down for you,” she gave in after a few seconds and turned on her heel to walk back to her things. She heard his footsteps follow along and she leant over slightly at the desk to grab a scrap of parchment to write down everything Slughorn wanted done by next Monday’s double. “Why aren’t you in the infirmary?” She asked as she wrote.

 

He was standing a few steps away from her, tapping his fingers on the book he was holding. “I was,” he excused and Hermione  _ knew  _ he was lying. It was the same tone of voice  _ anyone  _ put on when they lied about something. “I just needed to get today’s homework.”

 

“Right,” she said and stood up straight and handed him what she’d written. “It’s due Monday,” she told him. “I don’t know what potion we’ll be making though, I can try to find out.”

 

“Yeah,” he looked at the parchment and pocketed it. “I’ll get Zabini to find out from Slughorn.” He turned around and went to walk away.

 

“Hey,” Hermione snapped and walked towards him, almost running into his back when he stopped and turned around. “Have you set all of your minions on me now?” She asked.

 

“What?” His forehead creased in confusion. “My minions?”

 

“You know. Zabini, Nott, your girlfriend…”

 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Draco said abruptly.

 

Hermione stopped and her eyes widened slightly as she looked at him. “Okay,  _ anyway _ , did you set them up to provoke my friends and I at every opportunity they get?”

 

“No,” Draco said and looked around them. “I have more important things to be thinking of rather than what my housemates are doing.”

 

_ Housemates _ , she thought.  _ Not friends. _ “Okay, well… Just tell me you won’t sabotage my potions anymore,” she changed the subject. “I hate being—”

 

“I won’t sabotage your potions anymore,” Draco interrupted and made to leave again.

 

“And don’t let Nott or Zabini do it either,” she grabbed his sleeve.

 

Draco yanked his arm away from her and turned his head to glare. “ _ Fine _ . Now are you going to let me leave?” He spat.

 

Hermione didn’t answer, but narrowed her eyes at him and turned around to go back to her table. “What is wrong with the male species these days?” She muttered under her breath. Why Parvati and Lavender stayed up late every night talking about boys was a mystery to Hermione; why would  _ anyone  _ want to be in a relationship with constant moodiness?

 

* * *

 

 

“Ron, don’t drink that!” Hermione said suddenly when she saw Harry tip something into Ron’s drink. She looked over Ron’s shoulder at Harry and widened her eyes, not believing Harry had just done what she saw.

 

“Why not?” Ron demanded to know, turning to glare at her.

 

“You just put something in his drink, Harry,” Hermione snapped.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry shrugged and bit into his toast.

 

Hermione moved forward. “You could get expelled for that!” She hissed. “Ron, don’t drink it!” Harry had just put the small vial back into his potion, in clear vision of her and Ron.

 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Hermione,” Ron said rudely and drank what was in his goblet and then stood up. “I think I’m going to the pitch now,” he said and walked out of the Great Hall. Harry had a small smile and got up to follow him, shrugging at Hermione.

 

Hermione sighed in annoyance and sat down at the table to eat breakfast. The majority of students in the Great Hall got up to head to the Quidditch Pitch after seeing the players make their way there, and Hermione was grateful for the quiet in an otherwise noisy place. She put some toast and eggs onto her plate and began to eat. It was only when she looked over the rim of her glass as she took a drink of orange juice, that she saw Draco sitting at the Slytherin table looking down at a piece of parchment with a quill in his hand.

 

She looked around. There was still a handful of students in the Hall, but none looking at her. She knew Slytherin was meant to be playing Quidditch, so why on Earth wasn’t Malfoy out at the pitch? She stared at him, hoping that if she kept her eyes on him long enough, he’d sense it and look up. That theory didn’t work well for her and after three minutes of intense staring, which only resulted in her eyes watering, she looked back down at her food and kept eating. She noticed ten minutes later that Malfoy stood up and exited the Hall, so she got up a few seconds later and rushed out to follow him. He was already half way up the Grand Staircase by the time she got out the door. “Malfoy!” She hissed and looked around and behind her before jogging to the bottom of the stairs.

 

He stopped and stood on a step, then turned to look at her. “What?” He snapped. He looked even worse than he had the day before, almost like he hadn’t had a wink of sleep.

 

“Why aren’t you playing?” She whispered, gesturing her arm behind her to the doors leading outside.

 

“I’m sick,” he said and turned to keep walking up the stairs.

 

Hermione wanted to tear her hair out. “Keep up that excuse, it won’t work forever,” she snapped and turned around to storm out to the Quidditch pitch. Despite her anger with her best friends, she didn’t want to stoop to Ron’s level of ignoring her, and went to support them play the first match of the year.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione arrived at the Quidditch pitch when Gryffindor were forty points up, Slytherin not having scored a thing. She sat with Luna and Neville in the stands and cheered on the team, but pursed her lips every time Ron saved a goal since Harry had  _ illegally  _ given him Felix Felicis to help out. She would never understand the obsession with Quidditch, nor why anyone would go through such extremes to win a game.

 

Time wore on and eventually Harry caught the snitch, ending the game much to Hermione’s delight. She missed the spectacle of Ginny flying straight into the commentator’s box to shut Zacharias Smith up, since she was fuming with anger that Gryffindor had won, partly due to illegal tactics. She confronted Harry when she reached him, only to be met with a smug grin and him flashing the full, unopened vial of Felix Felicis in her face which brought on another round of Ron’s anger as he accused her of not thinking he was good enough to help win Gryffindor a match.

 

“I’m not going to stand here and fight, Ronald,” Hermione snapped, cutting off his snippy remarks. “I’ve always believed you’re a good Keeper, I was just worried about the trouble you and Harry would get into,” she concluded and headed back to the castle. She’d initially thought about going to the library to study, until she checked her watch and saw that she had ten minutes until her detention with Professor McGonagall. All her plans of homework and reading the new book she’d gotten delivered from Flourish and Blotts, were out the window and she made her way up to Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration classroom.

 

Hermione was let into the room after she knocked on the door. “Thank you for being on time,” Professor McGonagall said. “We just need to wait until Mister Malfoy arrives—”

 

“Malfoy’s coming?” Hermione interrupted and her cheeks flushed red at the look McGonagall gave her for butting in. “Sorry, Professor.”

 

“Yes, he hasn’t been turning in homework for most of his classes,” Professor McGonagall said.

 

Hermione sighed and sat down at a desk and waited. “What will we be doing?” She asked after a few minutes of tense silence.

 

“You and Mister Malfoy will be checking my first and second year student’s projects,” McGonagall answered. “I trust you both well enough to do so correctly as you were both some of my few students who got an ‘O’ in your O.W.L.s.”

 

Hermione was rather shocked that her detention would simply be grading younger student’s work, but felt rather honoured that McGonagall thought she was up for the task of doing so. A few minutes later, a knock at the door made the elder witch flick her wand to open it, and in walked Malfoy whose step faltered when he saw Hermione sitting at a desk. Hermione looked at him then turned away as Professor McGonagall explained to him what their punishment would be. She gave each of them a stack of parchments and a grading shet, then told them they had two hours until their detentions were finished, and if they needed her, she would be in her office.

 

Hermione was halfway through checking the second piece of work when she looked over to Draco. It seemed like he hadn’t moved since he’d sat down at the desk next to her. A quill was clutched in his fist, his fingers clenched so hard the tendons on the back of his hand stood out visibly. He was staring at the wall in front of them and she saw the muscle in his cheek jump every few seconds. “Malfoy,” she said quietly and he tensed before settling again.

 

“What?” He asked.

 

“Why haven’t you been handing in your homework?” She asked. “You seem to be in the library a lot. Don’t you catch up on your work then?”

 

“It’s none of your business,” Draco answered and looked down at the parchment in front of him and wrote something on it. She resumed her work for a few minutes until he spoke again. “Why are you here?” He asked. “I didn’t think you got detention.”

 

“Your friends didn’t tell you?” Hermione asked in surprise.

 

“They’re not my friends,” he bit back and let out a breath through his nose. “But no.”

 

“Harry, Ron and I got in a bit of a… Well, we had a bit of an incident with Zabini, Nott and Parkinson,” she admitted.

 

“Really?” He furrowed his brows as he looked at her.

 

“So you didn’t set them up to it?” She asked in confusion.

 

“I hate all three of you, but I don’t have time to be plotting ways to get you put in detention,” he scoffed.

 

She sniffed and turned back to her work. “Okay, well if you’re there next time it may or may not happen, tell your friends to back off. I don’t even like to think what Harry and Ron would have done if McGonagall hadn—”

 

“Granger?” He cut in.

 

“Yeah?” She asked.

 

“Can you shut up for once in your life so I can finish this detention in peace?”

 

Hermione glared and straightened her shoulders, picked up the work she was marking, and took it to the desk at the other end of the room.  _ Why do I even bother _ , she thought bitterly,  _ he’s always going to act the same _ .

 


	6. Teamwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me 
> 
> We both want to thank everyone who's read/subscribed/reviewed this fic because we're really excited about it and we're so happy people are liking it so far!

When Hermione woke to rumbles of thunder and pouring rain, she should have taken it as a sign; but she didn’t believe in signs, not really. The mood around the castle was grim and dreary as Hermione headed to Ancient Runes that morning. When the bell rang, she saw two more empty seats. Two more students had been pulled from school. 

 

The day didn’t improve at all. She was almost late for Arithmancy, and she ended up having to use almost half of her free period to write up two third year students who were skipping class and escort them to Professor McGonagall

 

It was in double Potions that her day took a turn for the worst. Ron had decided it would be hilarious to mock her in front of the everyone; jumping up and down, waving his arm wildly with a faux earnest look on his face.  

 

_ “Professor!” he had cried. “Ooh, ooh, Professor, I know the answer! Please!”  _

 

She hadn’t cared that there was still fifteen minutes left of class, nor that her potion wasn’t at its best  _ again. _ After Ron’s little show, she had promptly vialed her antidote to leave on her table for marking, threw her belongings in her bag and bolted from the dungeon. 

 

She headed straight to the library and as soon as she’d arrived at her usual table, she let herself wallow in her emotions, something she normally didn’t allow. Typically, she didn’t see the point in wallowing, but there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there? 

 

“Are you crying, Granger?” Drawled a familiar voice from behind her. 

 

Hermione sat up immediately, hastily wiping the tears from her eyes. “No,” she muttered. 

 

“Liar,” Draco said, sitting down across from her now. 

 

Hermione looked at him in shock. “Feeling brave today?” 

 

He scowled at her, knowing what she meant. She saw their Arithmancy textbook settled in his hands. Draco was fidgeting with a ring -- she assumed it was a family heirloom, due to the large ‘M’ engraved on it -- on his finger, glancing everywhere but at her. 

 

“If you’re just going to sit there--”

 

“We have an arithmancy test on Wednesday,” he said, cutting her off. 

 

“Yes,” she said slowly. “We do. Amazing what you know when you actually show up for class.” 

 

Draco wore a pained expression, as though what he was about to say might actually kill him. He clutched the book so tightly his knuckles turned white and he clenched and unclenched his jaw. There was a sort of nervousness to his tone that she’d never heard before. “Seeing as I’ve been, ah... sick,” he said, absolutely avoiding her gaze, “Maybe we could...study...at the same table or something.” 

 

Hermione squinted at him, arms crossed over her chest. He was a horrible, horrible liar, almost as bad as her! He wasn’t sick, there was something in her gut telling her it was more than that. 

 

“Why would you want to study with me? You hate me, as you so politely pointed out in detention!” She snapped. 

 

He ignored her jab about his previous comment and said, “I don’t enjoy your company, I just need to pass.” 

 

“Rude, but fair,” she said after a pause. “We can study at the same table...or something.” 

 

Hermione could have sworn she saw a flicker of that familiar smirk he had worn for the past five years grace his tired features, but it was so fleeting she couldn’t be quite sure. 

 

“Ah, Miss Granger!” Professor Slughorn announced, spotting them at their table. They hadn’t even heard him approaching. He looked at her gleefully, his hands resting on his stomach. “A delightful surprise! House unity at its best. Gryffindor and Slytherin working together.” 

 

Hermione didn’t dare look at Draco. She was sure his cheeks were as red as hers. If Slughorn told anyone about this, and knowing him he would, they’d have the entire school talking. The rest of the students knew what Draco had been like since they first arrived at Hogwarts, and it would come as quite a shock to hear that he had been seen studying with her, of all people. She didn’t even want to  _ think _ about what Harry and Ron would say. 

 

“Erm, thank you, sir,” Hermione gushed fakely, for she had no idea what to to say. 

 

“I’m hoping you’ll attend my next dinner,” Slughorn said, looking only at Hermione. “My room, this Saturday at eight.” 

 

“Yes, sir,” she nodded weakly. “I’ll be there.” 

 

Professor Slughorn beamed at her. “Very good, very good.” 

 

He waved as he walked away, disappearing as he turned down one of the stacks. Hermione turned back towards Draco. His face was screwed up in anger. “I’ve been trying to get invited to his dinners for--” He stopped for a moment, “Nevermind.” 

 

“His parties really aren’t that great. Cormac McLaggen always attends and Slughorn practically adores him. It’s quite obnoxious, really,” she said flatly. 

 

Draco grunted and flipped open his Arithmancy textbook. Hermione shook her head and dug out her Arithmancy notes from her bag. She slid them across the table to Draco, who took them and mumbled a pathetic “Thank you.” She nodded and picked up her quill, twirling it between her fingers. 

 

They worked in silence from that point on. Draco would ask her the occasional question about her notes and she’d answer as she worked on her Charms essay that was due the next day. He didn’t mention her crying when he first arrived and she asked no questions about his latest absences. It was refreshing, she thought as they packed up their belongings after two hours of working, to sit with someone in silence. She also realized as she made the trip back to Gryffindor Tower, that the past few hours were the first time in days that she had been able to fully concentrate on her studies. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione was still wary when she entered the dungeons for Potions on Tuesday morning. Though the three Slytherins had left her alone apart from a few scathing looks in the corridors, she was constantly worried they’d pick another fight. 

 

Ron and Harry sat at their new table and she was left with Ernie once again. She didn’t mind this so much; Ernie was quiet and hard-working, which meant he often left her alone. Hermione set up her station, picking out the ingredients she would need to prepare today’s antidote when she heard the dungeon door open with a loud bang. 

 

She turned around to see Draco strolling in looking aggravated, followed by Zabini, Nott and Pansy. Her shoulders sank in relief. If Draco was here today, she highly doubted his  _ housemates,  _ as he had referred to them only days ago, would dare do anything with him around. 

 

Nott shot her a menacing look and Hermione glared right back. She wasn’t going to let them intimidate her. Draco had looked up and saw Nott staring at Hermione and she saw Draco whisper something to the Slytherin. Nott looked at her again, a wicked smile forming on his thin lips before turning away from her. Hermione didn’t have time to wonder what Draco could have said as Professor Slughorn had called for their attention. 

 

“Now,” he said, drumming his fingers on his large belly. “I wanted to shake things up today! Hopefully none of you will mind, hm?” 

 

The class waited in anticipation.  It was rare that they ‘shook things up’ in Potions, as they most often worked alone at their tables. 

 

“Let’s see how well you work together,” the portly man said with a large smile. “Now let’s see…” Professor Slughorn stared at them all, winding between tables. “Mr. Zabini, let’s put you with,” he stopped at Ron. “What was your name again, son?” 

 

Ron looked as though he wanted to throttle Slughorn. “Ron Weasley,” he answered through gritted teeth. 

 

“Very well then. Mr. Zabini and Mr. Weasley.” 

 

Slughorn continued to roam around the room. He paired Ernie with one of the Ravenclaws and Nott with the other Ravenclaw. Hermione’s heart was beating. If she was paired with Harry (which she highly doubted), she’d have to deal with him wanting to use the Prince’s instructions and she would fight him tooth and nail. If she were paired with Pansy, it would be nothing short of a nightmare. If she were paired with Malfoy, Professor Slughorn might mention seeing them in the library together. 

 

“Mr. Potter and Ms. Parkinson, yes?” He said with a smile. 

 

Harry looked as though he would rather die. Hermione didn’t blame him. Then Slughorn was smiling at her and Draco, announcing they would be the final pair. She let out a sigh of relief when he made no mention of the library and she saw Draco do the same. 

 

She packed up her books and moved over to Draco’s table. He gave her a short nod as they set up and opened their textbook to the chapter on antidotes. Professor Slughorn told them to begin. Immediately, she turned to Draco with her plan. 

 

“Right, so, you prepare the ingredients and I’ll add them and track our progression?” 

 

Draco nodded. They worked in silence, only speaking to tell the other the next step or ingredient. Hermione could hear Harry arguing with Pansy a few tables behind them. She smiled to herself; at least Harry was having a horrible time in what had easily become his favorite class. 

 

“What?” Draco asked, having noticed the look on her face. 

 

Hermione bit her lip before whispering, “Harry can’t use his book with Parkinson. There’s no way he’d let her see it.” 

 

Harry was far too protective of that bloody book and if Hermione knew her best friend at all, there was no way Harry would dare open it in front of Pansy. 

 

Draco had stopped what he was doing and was now staring at her intently, an intrigued look on his features. “What do you mean he can’t use his book?” He drawled, his voice low enough so no one would hear. 

 

Hermione swallowed hard. She hadn’t meant to let that slip. “Erm…” 

 

Just as she was about to spit out some on the spot lie, they heard a loud crashing sound followed by an ear-splitting shriek behind them. Hermione whirled around to see Harry looking livid and Pansy looking as though she wanted to murder him. Their cauldron lay in pieces on the floor, the potion now a giant puddle at their feet. 

 

“Nice going Potter!” Pansy fumed. 

 

“I wasn’t even near the cauldron!” Harry shot back angrily. 

 

“Well I didn’t knock it over!” She shouted. 

 

“Oh right, so I suppose it just fell all on its own then, did it?” Harry snapped accusingly. 

 

“Oh now, now, not to worry you two,” Slughorn said as he approached their table. “Grab a spare cauldron and start over. There’s still over an hour to go. Plenty of time!” 

 

Harry muttered darkly under his breath as he went to fetch another cauldron. Pansy stood with her arms crossed over chest, staring at the mess on the floor, making no move to use her wand to clean it. 

 

Hermione turned back around and forced herself to focus on making the antidote. As much as she felt Harry deserved a difficult class for once, she didn’t have the time to watch it unfold. Draco worked diligently beside her, weighing every ingredient several times and cutting the ingredients exactly as the book instructed. Hermione read every instruction several times before she would asked Draco read it back to her. 

 

Despite her and Draco’s efforts, an hour and ten minutes later, Professor Slughorn patted Harry on the shoulder and congratulated him and Pansy for having the best brewed potion. 

 

Hermione looked at Draco, whose expression was hard and stone-like. He glanced at her and shook his head. As everyone began to clear their tables and pack their bags, Draco whispered to her, “Library. After Runes.” 

 

Hermione nodded curtly and helped him clean up their table. 

 

“Let’s continue this for the rest of the week, shall we?” Slughorn announced, clearly pleased with his idea. “See you all Thursday morning! Same partners.” 

 

Slughorn’s last announcement was the best thing that had happened to Hermione all day. 

 

* * *

 

Harry and Ron had both spent their break complaining about their new Potion’s partners. For once, it was Hermione that was pleased with the way class had went. She paid no mind to the two as she started her Runes reading in preparation for class that day. It was only when Harry gripped her knee and shook that she remembered where she was. 

 

“Hm?” She hummed distractedly. “Sorry, I was reading.”

 

“Was working with Malfoy terrible?” Harry asked. 

 

Hermione stared at her two best friends for a moment. They’d both been complete pains lately, as much as she loved them like the brothers she never had, but she decided it might do them so good to be honest about this. “No,” she said simply. “It wasn’t actually. He’s a hard-worker.” 

 

Harry scoffed and slumped back in his chair. Ron stared at her in disbelief, mouth hanging open slightly. She heard him grumble under his breath, but she decided to ignore him. She was done wasting energy arguing. 

 

* * *

 

“This is ridiculous,” Draco seethed as they sat at her table in the library, their books and notes spread out in front of them. “Perfect Potter drops his cauldron and still brews a better potion than us?” 

 

“I thought for sure it would at least set them back far enough that they wouldn’t have a chance to catch up,” she muttered, squinting to read her own handwriting. 

 

“Well I can’t bloody well drop something in his cauldron again, can I?” Draco muttered miserably. 

 

Hermione stopped what she was doing and looked up at him. “Why not? You’ve done it once before.” 

 

He huffed in annoyance, as though she should understand why he couldn’t just slip something into Harry’s cauldron. “Exactly,” he said flatly. 

 

Hermione nodded curtly and bent back down over her notes, when an idea came over her. It was wrong, yes, but so was following hand-written instructions and testing spells made up by a stranger. “I’ve got an idea,” she said quickly, leaning forward. 

 

Draco looked at her with intrigue and pushed aside the notes. 

 

“We won’t have enough time to finish our antidote on Thursday, right? So we’ll have to store our potions there until Friday,” she explained. 

 

Draco nodded in understanding. “I can ruin his potion then.” 

 

Hermione nodded and leaned further in. “Just tell Slughorn we forgot to label our cauldron at the end of class tomorrow.” 

 

Malfoy looked slightly impressed by the end, much to her surprise. He smirked and shook his head, his hair hanging over his eyes. 

 

“What!” She asked indignantly. 

 

“This doesn’t seem like you, that’s all,” he said quietly after a few moments. 

 

Hermione pressed her lips together tightly, pulling her notes to her again. A part of her wanted to tell Malfoy that she had done plenty of things that ‘didn’t seem like her’ during her years at Hogwarts. She’d brewed Polyjuice Potion perfectly in their second year! She had helped form Dumbledore’s Army, for crying out loud! She trapped that blasted Rita Skeeter in a jar for a year after figuring out she was an Animagus. 

 

“Well, you don’t know much about me, do you?” She replied matter-of-factly. 

 

“You don’t know much about me either, Granger,” he pointed out, not bothering to look up. 

 

_ No,  _ she thought to herself,  _ I don’t.  _ She watched as he concentrated on the textbook in front of him. His face looked slimmer, his eyes surrounded by dark circles.  _ But perhaps I’d like to.  _

 

* * *

 

On Wednesday, after lunch, Hermione left early to run back to the common room for her Transfiguration textbook so she would still have her entire free period to work on her homework. 

 

As she was walking down the seventh floor corridor, she could hear the argumentative tone of a hushed voice. Whoever it was, was male. As she quietly walked closer, she let out an inaudible gasp when she realized she recognized that voice. It was Draco. What was he doing all the way up here when everyone else was at lunch? 

 

“Just tell me what it is and maybe I can help you figure something out,” said another hushed voice that Hermione recognized. It was Blaise, and it sounded as though he were almost pleading with Draco. 

 

“I’ve told you, I can’t,” Draco replied angrily. “Besides, I don’t need your help.” 

 

Hermione bolted down the hall and ran into an empty classroom, promptly shutting the door behind her. She heard the sounds of Blaise muttering and his hurried footsteps before they faded just as quickly as they came. She waited with bated breath until she was sure Draco would not come walking by, then rushed back to the common room. 

 

With her Transfiguration textbook now in hand, she hurried to the library. She’d lost a few minutes after coming across Blaise and Draco. She might as well have stayed there for the remainder of lunch. She hardly put a dent in her homework as she spent most of the time wondering what Draco had been doing on the seventh floor and why Blaise was so eager to help him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione could no longer deny that she was intrigued by Draco Malfoy. She wanted to know why he missed class so much, why he always evaded her questions and why his appearance seemed to be getting worse and worse over time. Quite often now, she found her thoughts wandering to where he was every time he was absent. She didn’t talk to anyone about it, of course, because who could she talk to? Harry would want to do something drastic, Ron couldn’t care less about the whole Malfoy thing, and neither Ginny, Luna or Neville had any idea about it. 

 

When it came time for Potions on Thursday morning, Hermione was the only one out of the three of them that was looking forward to class. Harry had asked her why she seemed so chipper at breakfast and she told him that she had finally gotten caught up on most of her homework and had a good night’s sleep. 

 

Draco merely lowered his head slightly at her when he arrived at their table. Hermione glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. They laid out their ingredients, set up the cauldron and opened their textbooks in complete silence. It was only when everyone had started preparing their ingredients and conversing with their partners that she spoke. 

 

“Remember,” she said, her voice lower than a whisper. “Just tell Slughorn--” 

 

“I know,” he said through gritted teeth. 

 

They’d gone over the plan, albeit it was a simple one, at least a dozen times the last two days.  But she couldn’t help herself from reminding him. She stirred the potion clockwise three times as the book instructed, and checked to make sure it was simmering. 

 

At the end of class, Professor Slughorn instructed them to move their cauldrons to the storage room attached to the classroom. There was the usual scrapes of wood against stone as five cauldrons floated to the spare room. 

 

Draco waited until they were packed up and ready to leave, before he rushed up to Professor Slughorn with a very convincing look of distress. 

 

“Sir,” he said. “I think I’ve forgotten to label our cauldron. May I?” 

 

“Yes, yes! Of course,” Professor Slughorn replied, tidying up his desk. 

 

Hermione watched as Draco slipped into the spare room. She turned her back and met up with Harry and Ron on their way out of the dungeon. 

 

_ And now we wait,  _ she told herself. 

 

* * *

 

“What did you do to it?” Harry snarled to a furious looking Pansy the next day in Potions. 

 

“You’re as mad as some say you are, Potter!” She shrieked. “I told you, I didn’t bloody touch it! Why would I ruin my own potion?” 

 

“Well, obviously--”

 

“Now, now,” Professor Slughorn interrupted, strolling over with a cheerful look on his face. “What seems to be the problem?” 

 

Harry turned to Professor Slughorn at once, his face red and blotchy and his eyes glinting dangerously. Hermione had hardly ever seen him look so angry. She watched as her best friend explained to Slughorn what he thought had happened, but by the end of it, Slughorn laughed merrily and clapped Harry on the shoulder. 

 

“Harry, m’boy, every great Potioneer makes mistakes. Your mother made plenty of her own,” he chuckled. “I’m sure you can figure out how to set it right!” 

 

* * *

 

Professor McGonagall handed her and Malfoy their next stack of projects to grade during their detention that Saturday afternoon and told them she had a meeting and would be back later. 

 

“I trust you two can handle this,” she said gravely, peering at them over her spectacles. 

 

“Yes, Professor,” they replied simultaneously. 

 

Professor McGonagall nodded and said she would be back in about an hour. The second she was gone, Hermione stopped reading for a moment and looked over at Draco. 

 

“Yesterday went well,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. 

 

Something she had already learned about Draco was that she never seemed to know what she was going to get. Some days he was cold and distance, other times he was more talkative. 

 

“Pansy wasn’t pleased,” he said. “Like that was supposed to mean anything to me.” 

 

Hermione hid her smile behind her bushy hair. “Slughorn wasn’t even phased. He still fawns all over Harry!” She complained, remembering how Slughorn had reacted the day before. 

 

“Granger,” Draco said over her. “I need to concentrate.” 

 

Hermione huffed and turned her attention back to the stack of parchment in front of her. And there it was. Cold and distant Draco. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione scanned the small crowd in Slughorn’s room, looking for the tall, dark Slytherin. She’d been anxious for this dinner since she had overheard Draco and Blaise’s conversation. She could count on Blaise attending, as he never seemed to miss one. It was the perfect opportunity to hopefully get some answers. 

 

They had already sat down to eat and now everyone was mingling. Slughorn was dragging McLaggen around the room, introducing him to several higher ups in the Ministry. Hermione had chosen to stand behind the refreshment table in a small alcove covered by a curtain, hoping that Blaise would stop by for a drink or some dessert. When she looked to the left again, she saw Blaise shuffling his way behind the table. Now was her chance. 

 

She grabbed hold of the back of his shirt lightly and yanked backwards, pulling him into the alcove with her. 

 

“What the bloody--”

 

“Shhh!” She whispered. 

 

“Excuse me?” Blaise said incredulously. “How dare you tell me to be quiet!” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and stepped closer to him, making sure her wand was gripped tightly in her hand. Blaise took a step back, looking slightly alarmed. “I have questions and I think you might be able to provide some answers,” she said. 

 

Blaise crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her, an awful sneer on his sharp features. Hermione glared right back at him. 

 

“And what makes you think I would tell  _ you  _ anything?” He drawled, leaning against the stone wall. 

 

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Because I overheard you in the library telling D--Malfoy to sabotage my potion.” 

 

“So?” 

 

“So I could inform Professor Slughorn. My potion was in fact ruined, if you remember. I’m sure he wouldn’t be too happy to hear foul play took place in his class,” she said coolly. 

 

Blaise laughed, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “Are you blackmailing me, Mudblood?” 

 

Hermione ignored his jab. She couldn’t let that get under her skin right now. She had a goal to accomplish. “Not if you give me answers.” 

 

Blaise was silent for what felt like several minutes to Hermione. Until finally, a low growl escaped his throat as he ran his hands over his face. “Fine,” he bit out. “No one ever knows about this, you got that?” He asked, gesturing between them both.

 

Hermione nodded and held up a hand. “Rest assured I do not want people knowing we talked.” When he said nothing, Hermione took that as her cue. She inhaled sharply, unsure where to start, and which question to ask first, before blurting out, “Why does Draco look so ill lately?” 

 

As soon as the words left her mouth, Blaise barked out a laugh. He threw his head back and clutched at his stomach. Hermione frowned in confusion and frustration. Why was he laughing? 

 

“This is about Draco, is it?” He asked mockingly. “You Gryffindors are such fools.” 

 

With that, Blaise pushed his way past her and back into the party. Hermione stood in the dark alcove in shock at what had just happened.  _ So much for that plan,  _ she thought bitterly. 


	7. Empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by oeuvre24! 
> 
> Some small canon events will be adjusted in regards to when they occur throughout this fic.

The Saturday night that Hermione returned from Slughorn’s party, she was greeted to the unpleasant sight of Lavender Brown, almost fully draped over Ron, both snogging each other senseless, completely oblivious to the disgusted look of their housemates who gave them a wide berth from the couch they were sitting. Hermione was angered from her conversation with Zabini at Slughorn’s party, and had to bite her tongue from making a scathing comment to Ron about how he felt it was alright to snap at her and make fun of her because of a kiss she’d had at fourteen years old, and then for him to kiss Lavender with no abandon in front of  _ everyone _ . “Hypocrite,” she muttered under her breath and avoided looking at the both of them as she headed straight to the girl’s dormitory to sleep.

 

It took her a long time to wind her mind down. Her thoughts were spinning around Draco’s supposed illness, her fights with Ron, her annoyance with Harry, the constant teasing she was enduring from several Slytherins  _ and  _ Ron too, and now she had to deal with Lavender and Parvati who returned to the dorm just before midnight, the former chatting loudly and obnoxiously about how much she liked Ron and couldn’t wait to see him in the morning.

 

Hermione pulled her pillow over her face, gripping it tightly, trying not to scream in frustration.

* * *

 

 

“You need to be careful, Harry,” Hermione told her best friend when she finished her Ancient Runes translation. For the past thirty minutes, she and Harry had been sitting at a table in the library, not speaking. They didn’t get to speak very much these days as Ron grew bitter when Harry chose to spend time with her over him. Hermione didn’t blame Harry for sticking around Ron more, and had to admit, was quite pleased he had to put up with ‘Won-Won’ and Lavender; maybe he’d experience the annoyance and frustration that she’d been feeling almost since day one of returning for sixth year.

 

“I’m not giving the book back,” Harry spoke.

 

Hermione pursed her lips. “I’m not talking about your stupid book,” she snapped and then lowered her voice when she saw Madam Pince look at them from where she was putting away books. Hermione leaned forward and lowered her voice. “When I was in the bathroom earlier, I heard Romilda Vane and her friends talking about how they’re going to slip you some love potion they bought from Fred and George’s shop.”

 

She noticed that Harry was trying to hide the smug expression from his face, and failing miserably. “And you didn’t take the potions off them?”

 

“They didn’t have the potions with them, otherwise you know I would have,” Hermione explained.

 

“I thought Filch was confiscating all of the twins’ products?” Harry questioned and Hermione rolled her eyes.

 

“The potions are disguised as other things, like perfumes,” she said, “And do you really think Filch would be able to distinguish between that and a love potion?” She raised an eyebrow.

 

“But he has all those detectors to make sure things aren’t brought into the school. See, Malfoy  _ could  _ have had the necklace se—”

 

“Harry, don’t,” Hermione snapped, having had enough of Harry’s constant accusations. “Besides, the Secrecy Sensors detect curses and jinxes, things along those lines.  _ If  _ anyone were to have sent the necklace in, the sensors would have picked up on it. Those sensors can’t detect poisons, or, in this case, love potions.”

 

Harry grumbled and looked down at his book — his Potions book, he never kept it far from his sight — and Hermione looked back at her paper. She only just glanced at the first sentence to start proof-reading her work, when she heard a noise from the stacks and looked up, seeing someone quickly walk in the opposite direction… A very familiar someone with blonde hair. “Malfoy…” She said under her breath, without even thinking.

 

“What?” Harry asked, looking at her.

 

“A ploy,” Hermione lied quickly, “It’s a ploy, how Fred and George get their products into the school.” She let out a sigh of relief when Harry nodded and went back to reading, and she hoped her cheeks weren’t too red.

 

* * *

 

 

Every time Hermione tried to sit with Harry and Ron in the common room in the evenings, it didn’t take her long to remember why she decided to spend her free periods in the library. Ron continued to make scathing comments at her, either to her face or thinking she couldn’t hear, but Hermione was more annoyed that Harry sat in the middle of the both of them, not saying a word to defend her and stop Ron. If it had happened in the past, Hermione would have stayed with them and either ignored Ron or fought back, but now, everywhere he went, Lavender was sure to find him. The girl would push herself in to sit with — or  _ on — _ Ron to giggle loudly, play with his hair or kiss him. Hermione hated being around it as it was both disgusting and hypocritical on Ron’s behalf and she’d had quite enough to do with him.

 

On Wednesday after lunch during her free period, Hermione sat at her usual table in the library, summarising three chapters of her Transfiguration textbook that Professor McGonagall had assigned as homework. She was rather shocked when the chair opposite her was pulled back, and Draco sat himself down. Her surprise must have been rather obvious, because he rolled his eyes and pulled work out from his bag, putting it on the table. “Why are you looking at me like that, Granger?” He drawled.

 

“Our Arithmancy test was this morning, we don’t need to study anymore,” Hermione said, since the only reason they’d been sitting together in the first place was due to Draco needing help to pass.

 

“And?” He questioned, looking at her as he dipped the nib of his quill in  _ her  _ ink pot which made her narrow her eyes.

 

“I thought the only reason you wanted to be anywhere near me was so I could help you pass,” she said slowly.

 

“And I think I did,” Draco said and put his quill to parchment and started to write. She watched him do so and couldn’t help but admire his penmanship. It wasn’t like the hasty scribbles Ron made, or the messy handwriting Harry had; Draco had clearly been taught how to write properly, and write well.

 

“That’s good, but—”

 

“Look, Granger,” he sighed through his nostrils and looked up at her. “Just tell me if you don’t want me sitting here.”

 

Her eyes widened slightly. “I didn’t say that.”

 

“Then  _ what’s _ the problem?”

 

“Nothing,” she shook her head and pushed a strand of hair from her face. “I just wondered why you were sitting here again.”

 

He ignored her and went back to his work and she went back to hers too. She didn’t know how long it was before he spoke again, quietly. “You helped me pass, even when you didn’t have a reason to. And I can concentrate better working here,” he mumbled.

 

She didn’t look at him because she figured how much effort that must have taken him to admit, so she smiled down at her parchment and continued to write.

 

The bell rang signalling that students should be moving to their next class, so Hermione stood up to pack her things, getting ready to go to Defence Against the Dark Arts. “I’m coming back here before dinner,” she said as she slung her bag strap over her shoulder. “Are you going to be here too?”

 

Draco didn’t look up from his work. “Maybe,” he said stiffly. She didn’t push any further, and left without a glance back.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco arrived at Hermione’s table around forty minutes after she’d gotten there. She was halfway through writing her up an essay for Ancient Runes. She would have done more had she not had to stop every few minutes to repair the tears she accidentally made in her parchment due to pushing down too hard with her quill in anger. Her head was pounding and her jaw was aching from clenching it so hard to resist the temptation to cry — angry tears, though. She was incredibly frustrated and  _ absolutely  _ sick of  _ everyone  _ in her Defence class.

 

While they had been working, Snape asked a question to which Hermione raised her hand. From the back of the class, she heard a crude and teasing remark from Nott, which made her turn around and glare. Snape took five points from Gryffindor, for ‘attempted provocation’ on her behalf and Ron had muttered under his breath about how she needed to stop being such a teacher’s pet and let someone else answer. Even as Hermione thought about it at the library table, her nostrils flared slightly as she tried to keep control of her emotions.

 

“On this sheet of Runes, is the top line—” Draco started to ask a question but Hermione couldn’t contain herself anymore.

 

Her fingers curled into fists as she snapped, “I’m so sick of him!” which caused Draco to look at her with raised eyebrows.

 

“Who?” He questioned after a moment. “The Weasel or Potter?”

 

“Ronald,” she said in frustration. “He’s making everything so awful! I can’t even  _ sit  _ with him and Harry in the common room without Lavender coming to leech onto his mouth. I can’t be in class without him making an immature comment about me, or agreeing with your Slytherin cronies—”

 

“I don’t have cronies, and I told you he’s an ars—”

 

“—but of course  _ I’m  _ the bad person!” She continued her tirade, “Just because I kissed Viktor two years ago! Maybe if  _ Won-Won _ had plucked up enough courage to ask me first—”

 

“You kissed Vi—”

 

“—but  _ no _ ! He has to be an immature, selfish… _ arse _ about everything! What have I done wrong? Nothing! I did  _ nothing _ wrong, Draco, but  _ I’m  _ the one that gets made fun of!”

 

“Granger, are you crying?” He asked abruptly as he stared at her in half amusement and half shock due to her outburst.

 

“What?” She snapped and lifted her fingers to her cheek and felt wetness on her fingertips. “I’m angry is all,” she said and wiped her cheeks with the heel of her palm. “I get like this when I’m angry,” she muttered. “You wouldn’t see me crying over Ronald, I can tell you that.”

 

“Right, well…” Draco looked around them then leaned forward across the table slightly. “I’ve always hated the bastard,” he said and Hermione nodded since that was common knowledge. “Let’s give him something to think about,” he smirked.

 

Her forehead creased as she looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

 

“Slughorn told Zabini what potion we’re making next in class and I read up on it. If that potion is messed up and touches your skin, it causes swelling. Well…what if precious Weasley had something  _ accidentally _ dropped into his potion? That would make it a bit hard for his whiny girlfriend to give him a smooch, don’t you think?” His voice was low and his smirk looked dangerous, a wicked glint in his eyes.

 

Hermione’s lips curled upwards too. Swelling wasn’t so bad…Her and Draco wouldn’t be bringing terrible harm to Ron… “Okay, Malfoy. I think that sounds perfect,” she said after more thought. She wasn’t necessarily happy with the fact that for the past few weeks, her and Draco had been plotting to sabotage Harry and Ron’s potions, _ but _ , she thought,  _ they deserve it, don’t they? _

 

“I can get Zabini to do it,” Draco said. “I won’t tell him why, though.”

 

“Will he do it with no questions asked?”

 

“Granger,” Draco rolled his eyes. “Any chance to mess with Gryffindors, and  _ any  _ Slytherin is going to jump at the chance.”

 

* * *

 

 

During their Thursday morning Potions class, they didn’t get to brew anything, but rather, had to copy notes from the blackboard written by Professor Slughorn, and take note of what he was saying. It was dull work and even Hermione was struggling to stay concentrated, but she managed, and copied every word from the board. She looked up from her parchment as Slughorn gave time for everyone to catch up, but she had only been one word behind him since he had started. She glanced over at the Slytherin table and caught sight of Draco who was also finished writing.

 

She saw him glance her way then look at Harry who was copying from his textbook instead of the blackboard. Draco looked back at her and rolled his eyes dramatically, then Hermione smiled and scrunched her nose up, indicating her annoyance over what her friend was doing too. Draco smirked and glanced at the book before he lifted his hands, pretending he was holding a book and then ripping it in half. She had to discreetly cover her mouth with her hand to hide her smile, and looked away from him quickly when she saw Blaise lean over and whisper, “What are you doing?” to Draco.

 

* * *

 

 

“This is a rather tricky potion to make,” Slughorn said, officially starting the last lesson of the day on Friday afternoon. “As we don’t have much time, you will all work with the partners you had last week, to speed things up. The instructions for this potion are on page thirteen. Good luck!” 

 

With that, the Professor sat himself at his desk and everyone went to the workspaces they had been at the week prior, mostly groaning about having to do partner work. Hermione saw Harry mutter something angrily to Ron before he had to join Pansy at a table and both Ron and Zabini walked over to each other, standing straight and tall in a classic show of trying to be the alpha male. Hermione rolled her eyes and joined Draco at his work table. “So you told Blaise about what to do with Ron’s potion?” She whispered.

 

“It’s all sorted,” Draco nodded, responding quietly as he flicked open his book to the right page. “I’ll get the ingredients, you sort out the cauldron,” he said and walked away. For the next forty minutes, they both worked in companionable silence, only speaking to confirm instructions or ask a question. “He’ll be doing it around now,” Draco said nearing the end of their lesson and Hermione looked over at Ron and Blaise who were arguing about something.

 

The class came to a halt when Ron yelled loudly and Hermione whipped her head around to see his and Blaise’s cauldron lying on the floor, their potion pooling around Ron’s feet and dripping from his hands where he’d obviously tried to stop the fall. “You idiot!” Blaise seethed and stepped back from the potion. It was all pretend, however, since somehow Blaise had managed to mess up the potion and get it to fall on Ron without bringing attention to the fact he was doing so on purpose.

 

“You’re the idiot, I—” Ron argued but stopped mid sentence and looked down at his hands. With the potion still dripping from his fingertips, his hands started to balloon in size, swelling at quite a rapid pace.

 

Although Hermione knew it was going to happen, she felt a stab of guilt and her eyes widened and she wanted to go and help him. Draco sniggered behind her and she looked back to see him smirking. “Mission accomplished,” he drawled.

 

* * *

 

 

Due to it being Saturday, Hermione had the whole day ahead of her planned out. She had several essays that needed finishing, some that needed proof-read, and various chapters that needed to be read and summarised. She headed to the library after breakfast, with her book bag containing the things she needed for Charms, Herbology and Ancient Runes.

 

“Oh! Malfoy!” She said in surprise when she reached her table and found the blonde already sitting there. “I didn’t see you at breakfast,” she said and sat down. When she looked at him, she tried to mask her shock at the sight that greeted her. He was pale, his lips almost grey, and his eyes were lifeless and bloodshot, with heavy, dark bags under them. “Malfoy, are you okay?” She asked in concern.

 

“I’m fine,” he bit out and looked down at the book he was reading.

 

She followed his line of vision. “Your hands!” She gasped. “What happened?” She questioned and couldn’t take her eyes away. His fingernails, which she’d come to notice as always looking trimmed and…well… perfect, were now jagged and short, like he had bitten them down. He had long, red fading scratches on the backs of his palms, and the skin of his fingers looked raw. Some fingers even looked like they’d been cut and hastily healed with a spell.

 

“Piss off,” he growled and didn’t look at her.

 

“What happened?” She demanded to know, dread settling in the pit of her stomach. “Did you do that to yourself?” She hissed.

 

“No, I didn’t fucking do that to myself,” he snapped, staring up at her and she was taken aback by how terrifying he looked. “Keep your nose out of my fucking business, Granger, stop with the fake pity.” He closed his book and pushed his chair back as he stood.

 

“It’s not fake pity!” She argued, standing up too. “Your hands are a  _ mess _ , Malfoy, I’m allowed to be concerned over what happened!”

 

Draco scoffed and glared at her. “Like you’re concerned,” he spat. “You just want to please your curiosity.”

 

“Oh, and you wouldn’t ask me what happened if I sat down across from you with my hands torn up?” She snapped.

 

“No,” he growled. “I wouldn’t. Because I know when to keep my fucking mouth shut.”

 

She didn’t have a chance to retaliate as Madam Pince stormed around the bookshelves with an angered look on her face. “Both of you!” She snapped. “This is a library! I will not tolerate your tones  _ or _ your language,” she stared at Malfoy. “Out!” She waved her hands, shooing them away.

 

Hermione glared at Malfoy and hastily packed her books back into her bag. By the time she was finished, he had already left. She muttered under her breath, as she was  _ not _ finished with him. She hauled her bag onto her shoulder, ignoring the protesting ache in her back, and stormed out of the library, just in time to see Draco disappear in the direction of the dungeons.

 

There were no students around. It was a Hogsmeade visiting day, and due to the unusually fine weather outside, whoever wasn’t at the village, was out in the grounds, soaking up the sun before December would inevitably take it away. Hermione rounded the corner into the dungeon hallway, but had to stop when the strap of her bag gave way and fell off her shoulder. Hissing a rather unsavoury word under her breath, she stopped and bent over to repair the strap with a hurried “Reparo,” and continued to head in the direction Draco had gone.

 

She stopped when she heard loud voices around the next corner, and waited by the wall.

 

“What the hell happened to you?” She recognised the voice as belonging to Theodore Nott.

 

“None of your business,” Draco snarled.

 

“You didn’t come to the dorms last night.” That was Blaise, she knew.

 

“Why do you care?” Draco snapped.

 

“Because you’re being a right prick to us whenever you come back from buggering off to Merlin knows where!” Blaise snapped right back.

 

There was a moments silence before Draco spoke again, lower this time. “Can you both move out of the way?”

 

“Not until you tell us what you’ve been doing,” Nott spoke.

 

“We’ll need to conjure a chair if that’s the case, Theo,” Blaise said darkly.

 

Hermione inched closer to the corner of the wall and peeked around. Blaise and Theo were standing side by side, blocking Draco from walking any further down the corridor. She could see Draco’s hands curled into fists by his side, his whole body taut and filled with anger.

 

“ _ Move _ ,” Draco demanded.

 

“Let us help you,” Blaise answered.

 

“Move out of the  _ fucking _ way!” Draco yelled and Hermione jumped at how loud his voice was, and how it echoed.

 

“Don’t yell at us,” Nott snapped.

 

“I’ll do whatever I want to do,” Draco responded.

 

“Not when you’re being an arsehole, Malfoy,” Blaise sneered. “Stop putting up a fight,” he said, with less malice. “We’re mates,” he gestured to them all. “We can help you; we _ want  _ to help you.”

 

“I don’t need your help,” Draco snarled and stepped forward only to be pushed backwards by Zabini. Draco staggered backwards and Hermione’s hand went into her robe pocket to grab her wand, terrified of what Draco would do as he was so filled with rage. “You do that one more time, Zabini, and I swear, you’ll wish you didn’t,” he said, quieter this time, seething.

 

He took another step forward, trying to push between his housemates, but Blaise put his hands on Draco’s shoulders and pushed him back again. Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket when she saw Draco pull his arm back to throw it forward, his fist connecting with Blaise’s nose, and she winced when she heard the crack.

 

Blaise’s hand came up to his face, and dropped a few seconds later and she saw his blood dripping onto his uniform. “You fucking didn’t,” he sneered and in retaliation, threw his fist against Draco’s nose too.

 

Hermione stormed around the corner with her wand out. “Stop it!” She demanded, having seen too many fights recently,  _ knowing  _ that Malfoy didn’t really want this. “Stop fighting!”

 

“Shut up, Mudblood,” Zabini snapped before he tried to throw another punch at Draco, who dodged it and his back hit the wall.

 

“Twenty points from Slytherin!” Hermione snapped, pointing her wand directly at Blaise. “Don’t make me raise it to thirty. I’ll report you, you know. To Dumbledore.”

 

Blaise wiped the blood from his chin and lips, but to no avail as it kept dripping from his nose. He glared at her then turned around, facing the opposite way. “Come on, Theo,” he muttered and the two of them stalked away.

 

Hermione pocketed her wand and hurried to Draco’s side as he was still leaning back against the stone wall. “What are you doing…” She breathed as she came close and looked at his face. His nose was dripping blood and the bridge of his nose was sitting at an awkward angle. Draco didn’t look at her and was breathing heavily as he stared at the ground, making no move to wipe the blood from his face. “Draco…” She murmured softly.

 

His eyes darted to hers and then away just as quickly. “Leave me alone,” he said, but without the malice he’d possessed to her in the library. He sounded almost hopeless.

 

“No,” Hermione murmured and swung one bag strap off her shoulder to pull her bag around and reach in to find a tissue. She withdrew one and lifted it to his face and just as she touched it to his nose, he lifted his hand up quickly and snatched it from her. She lowered her hand and didn’t say anything; she just watched as he wiped the blood from his face.

 

“What are you still doing here?” He asked and his voice was beginning to sound nasally.

 

She ignored his question and withdrew her wand. “Let me fix your nose, it looks broken,” she said.

 

“No,” he said half heartedly and straightened up, pushing off the wall.

 

“Draco,” she snapped and put her hand on his shoulder when he tried to walk past her. “Let me fix your nose,” she said again, with no room for argument. He stared at her, his jaw tightly clenched, and then stepped back again, leaning against the wall. She took that as all the permission she needed, and raised her wand to point at his nose. “Episkey,” she murmured and there was a small cracking noise — nothing compared to the crack that sounded when he’d been hit in the first place — as his nose set back into its normal place.

 

He wrinkled his nose and sniffed before dabbing the blood soaked tissue against his nostrils again. “You didn’t need to do that.”

 

“I know I didn’t,” Hermione said, putting her wand in her pocket again. “I  _ shouldn’t _ have by the way you spoke to me before, but you know what, Malfoy? Not everyone’s against you,” she narrowed her eyes. “Regardless of the fact that  _ you  _ don’t care for anyone else, you need to remember that other people have the ability to feel concern and want the best for others. You need to remember that your friends are concerned—”

 

“They’re not my fr—”

 

Her sharp glare cut him off. “Your friends are concerned and I’m concerned too. I don’t care if you’re lying about being sick or not, Malfoy, but you look like crap and I’m not the kind of person to see that sort of thing, watch someone continually look worse and worse, and  _ not  _ say anything.” Her chest was rising and falling rapidly from how quickly she was breathing and her cheeks felt hot.

 

Draco rolled his eyes and smirked, trying to feign nonchalance, but Hermione could see right through it. He didn’t mean it one bit. “You hate me, Granger, why do you care?”

 

“I don’t hate you,” she answered easily. “You annoy me, yes. You’ve teased me and insulted me for the past five years, yes; but I don’t hate you. If I hated everyone that annoyed me and teased me, the only people I’d like on this Earth is my parents,” she said. “So just… Stop thinking everyone is against you,” she breathed out.

 

Draco was staring at her and her heart ached at the emptiness in his eyes. Something was wrong with him, she knew it. She was observant enough to know that the boy in front of her was not the Draco Malfoy she had come to know since they started Hogwarts. She didn’t say anything more to him, and put her bag strap back on her shoulder. She nodded her head slightly then turned on her heel to head in the other direction to get back to the main entrance to walk up the stairs to the common room.

 

She’d already left the dungeon hallway by the time Draco had pushed himself off the wall again, and said in a voice so quiet, he might as well have thought it, “I don’t hate you either.”

 


	8. Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me
> 
> Both oeuvre24 and I are extremely grateful for the attention this fic has gotten (remember, she's uploading on ff.net) so far! Thank you for sharing/reviewing/following and of course reading.

At twenty to eight that Saturday night, Hermione made her her way to Professor McGonagall’s classroom to serve her third detention. She had left a little early on purpose, just for the opportunity to be alone and simply think. She couldn’t stop flashes of earlier from replaying in her mind; how angry Draco had been, how Blaise had seemed desperate to help him, and the look on Draco’s face afterwards. She was still shocked that he had let her fix his nose.

 

The corridors were completely empty as she made her to Professor McGonagall’s office, and when she arrived, she still had ten minutes to spare. Hermione slid down the wall and pulled her knees to her chest, chewing on her lip as she mulled over everything Blaise and Theo had said earlier.

 

_“You didn’t come to the dorms last night.”_

 

 _Exactly where had Draco been?_ She wondered. _And what in Merlin’s name was he up to?_

 

“Oh! Miss Granger!” said a slightly flustered Professor McGonagall, peering down at Hermione in the doorway. “You’re early.”

 

Hermione stood up, brushing off her robes. “Sorry, Professor,” she apologised.

 

Professor McGonagall stepped aside and ushered Hermione into her classroom and Hermione sat down at her usual table. The elder witch bustled about, sorting papers on her text, putting textbooks back on the shelves. Hermione chose her words carefully when she finally spoke.

 

“Professor,” she said slowly, “I’ve noticed that Draco Malfoy hasn’t been looking well.”

 

The Professor stopped and turned to face Hermione, her lips were pressed tightly together, and her expression looked conflicted and perhaps even mournful? She said nothing, however, so Hermione pressed on.

 

“Do you think, Professor, that is has anything to do with why he’s been missing classes?” she asked.

 

“Perhaps,” McGonagall said. “But I think it would do you well to remember what isn’t your business, Miss Granger.”

 

Hermione barely batted an eye. She’d known Professor McGonagall wouldn’t delve into this with her. “Professor--”

 

Just as she was about speak again, the door opened and Malfoy walked in. Hermione quickly snapped her mouth shut and looked down at her desk. Professor McGonagall stood tall in the front of the classroom, watching Malfoy as he sat down at the table next to Hermione.

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy,” the Professor, laying stacks of projects on both of their desks.

 

Draco looked up and Hermione saw the lifeless expression on his sunken features. She grimaced but picked up the first project from the pile and got her quill ready. “Professor,” he greeted hoarsely.

 

McGonagall’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before glancing at Hermione and pursing her lips. Hermione gave her a look as if to say ‘ _see what I mean?_ ’ but McGonagall turned her back to them and retreated into her office.

 

Hermione was determined to only do her work that evening. After the events of this morning, she wasn’t going to push Draco to talk. Not to mention she had no idea what to say. She started reading through the projects, taking her time and giving them her undivided attention. The two of them worked in absolute silence, the only sound in the room was their quills scratching against the parchment. Hermione came across a first year’s and smiled as she read it. It was the longest she’d read yet, and the way it was written, reminded her of her younger self.

 

“The Weasel is still in the hospital wing,” Draco commented airily.

 

“Yes,” she murmured. “He is. How did you know that?”

 

There was a pause, and when she glanced over at him out of the corner of her eyes, she could physically see the confliction on his face.

 

“I went to the hospital wing earlier,” he said, so quietly that she had to strain to hear him.

 

She smiled down at her parchment. “Taking care of yourself then?”

 

All he replied with was a small, “Hmm”, before he returned to grading projects.

 

“Was it for your hands?” she asked, remembering the hastily healed cuts and scratch marks she’d seen marking his skin earlier in the library.

 

He stiffened before turning to her, his hands held up in front of him. A small gasp escaped her lips when she saw they were no longer scratched and marred, but were once again smooth and unmarked. And, she noted, his hands were quite elegant.

 

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” he drawled tiredly.

 

* * *

 

Ron got released from the hospital wing Sunday evening. Madam Pomfrey had wanted to be absolutely sure the swelling wasn’t going to return. The moment he returned to the Common Room, Lavender had latched herself to him, so Hermione was very grateful she had rounds that evening. She was supposed to do rounds with Draco, but at eight o’clock, Ernie Macmillan came striding up.

 

Hermione hid her disappointment and merely said, “Change in partners this evening, I see.”

 

Ernie looked a bit frazzled. “It was a bit weird, actually,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “Malfoy only just caught me about twenty minutes ago.”

 

Hermione perked up at this. “Really?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. “That’s odd.”

 

He nodded as the began to walk down the Grand Staircase. “He seemed like he was in a rush. Said something had come up and he needed me to switch with him.”

 

Now she was starting to worry. Was Malfoy alright? What was he doing that he had to blow off rounds? Where was he rushing off to? She bit her lip and didn’t say anything in response to Ernie’s comment. She was too busy trying to sort out her thoughts. She hadn’t seen Malfoy at all that day, which now that she thought about it, seemed a bit unusual, as she had spent the whole day in the library working on her mountain of homework.

 

Hermione kept all of this in mind as she and Ernie wandered the castle, looking for rule-breakers, but it seemed tonight, everyone was tucked away in their dormitories. Leaving Hermione to her worrying thoughts, Ernie said farewell, then she trudged back up to Gryffindor Tower, which was blanketed in darkness and completely silent. Everyone had already gone to bed.

 

She forced herself up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, slipped into her pajamas and drew the curtain around her bed before collapsing onto her pillow. As she lay there, letting her eyes drift shut, she found herself hoping that whatever it was Malfoy was doing, he was alright.

 

* * *

 

Draco wasn’t in Ancient Runes on Monday morning, but he showed up for Arithmancy after their morning break. Hermione made a rather bold move and followed him to the back of the class and sat down next to him at his usual table.

 

“What are you doing?” he hissed as everyone took out their books and quills.

 

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Please,” she said. “Everyone else in here is either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. They don’t care.”

 

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t tell her to move, so she stayed where she was. Today they were only reading the next two chapters of their textbooks and taking notes, and luckily, chatting was not forbidden, so long as their work got done.

 

“You missed rounds last night,” she commented.

 

“Obviously,” he snapped.

 

She took in his disheveled appearance, something Malfoy never was. The bags under his eyes, the lifeless expression, even the way he slouched and hunched over his work. “How much sleep did you get last night?” she asked, completely ignoring her work now.

 

“Not enough,” he answered.

 

She made a sound of disapproval. “You _should_ see Madam Pomfrey again.”

 

“I didn’t realize I had a second mother,” he said scathingly.

 

Hermione was about to retort but Professor Vector was heading their way. Not wanting to risk getting in trouble again, she quickly pulled her textbook closer to her and bent so low over her parchment, her nose was almost touching it.

 

* * *

 

Though the Christmas Holidays were right around the corner, Hermione still found herself spending every moment she wasn’t in class or sleeping, in the library. On Wednesday, she decided to skip lunch and just head straight there. She had been planning on spending her free period there anyway and decided there was no point in losing more time. After grabbing a few sandwiches, wrapping them in napkins and and stuffing them in her bag, she left the Great Hall.

 

When she arrived at her table in the library, she found Draco already sitting there. He’d been doing it more frequently, and she hadn’t questioned him since the first time he had sat there after their Arithmancy test last week. He nodded at her as she sat down and went right back to his homework. Hermione sat down across from him, as she usually did and pulled out the sandwiches followed by her books and quills.

 

Before Hermione had even opened one of her textbooks, she pushed the sandwiches to the middle of the table and unwrapped them. She got out a new roll of parchment and opened her Herbology textbook. “If you’re hungry, I nicked some sandwiches,” she told him. “Just don’t let Madam Pince see you.”

 

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled.

 

Hermione shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said before picking up a sandwich and taking a bite.

 

She had only gotten one sandwich each for them, and after an hour into studying, the other still remained. Her stomach grumbled a bit; she was hungry, but Draco needed to eat. She hadn’t seen him at breakfast all week, and she only saw him at lunch on Tuesday. He wasn’t eating enough.

 

“Eat the damn sandwich already,” Draco snapped suddenly, looking up from his copy of _Quintessence: A Quest._

 

“No,” she said defiantly. “I, unlike you, have eaten today.”

 

He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. Hermione lifted her chin and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

“You haven’t been to breakfast all week,” she said.

 

Draco fell quiet. He was looking down at his homework. She thought she saw his bottom lip quiver as he remained in thought. He shook his head slowly and laughed bitterly. “Why do you care, Granger?” he asked.

 

The sadness in his tone pierced her like a knife. She inhaled sharply, struggling to find her words. He’d caught her off guard with that one. She sat up a little straighter and opened her mouth to speak, hoping words would actually come out.

 

“I didn’t mean to,” she said quietly. “But that’s what happens, isn’t it? Perspectives change and...feelings change, and you see someone in a different light.”

 

The silence that fell between them was deafening. He still wasn’t looking at her, but fiddling with the corner of his parchment. “If you’re insinuating that we’re friends or something--” he snarled.

 

“I’m not _insinuating_ anything!” she said hotly. “If you’re suggesting that calling me your friend is such a despicable thing, then maybe I’m completely wrong about you!”

 

She began shoving her books back into her bag. She could feel tears of anger threatening to spill down her cheeks if she didn’t get away then. Draco seemed at a loss for words, which if she wasn’t so frustrated, would have worried her more, but she was too angry with him at the moment. Hermione threw her bag over her shoulder and stood up quickly. She began to walk away before she stopped, and turned to look at him once more. He sat with his head in his hands, hunched over the table.

 

“I’m not the enemy, Draco,” she said softly. “I know you’ve thought that I am since first year, but I’m not. All I want to do is help.”

 

When he still didn’t reply after a good twenty seconds, Hermione turned to leave again. If she had waited another ten seconds, she would have heard a very quiet, “No one can help me."

 

* * *

 

“Hermione, are you alright?” Harry asked on their way to breakfast Thursday morning.

 

“Hm?” she hummed, pulling away from her thoughts. “Oh yes, I’m fine. Just loads of homework. I’ve got two exams today, an essay due and we’re discussing several theories in Runes later.”

 

Harry hummed in agreement; though he was taking less classes than she was, his pile of homework remained as heavy as hers.

 

“Are you coming to the Burrow with us still?” he asked as they climbed down the Grand Staircase.

 

She bit her lip. She’d been dreading this conversation with Harry. “No,” she said. “I’m going on vacation with my parents.”

 

He sighed in disappointment. “I thought you were going to say that.”

 

She grimaced but didn’t say anything more on the subject. She hated lying, she really did, but if she told Harry the truth, that she would be remaining at Hogwarts for Christmas, he would no doubt ask questions. She’d never stayed at Hogwarts without them before. Even if she wanted to go on vacation with her parents, she wouldn’t be able to. Until earlier this week, they had thought she would be going to the Burrow and it was far too late for her to tag along to Rome, and she didn’t want to spend two weeks in close confines with Harry and Ron, when she was annoyed with the former, and still fighting with the latter.

So really, staying at Hogwarts was her only choice.

 

* * *

 

Draco ignored her completely in Potions and Runes that day, and by Charms, she was in a positively volatile mood. She’d snapped at a couple of third years on her way to class, claiming they were giggling too loudly. They looked rather frightened as they scurried off, whispering to one another. She was just a few classrooms away when someone tapped on her shoulder.

 

She whirled around to see a young boy, undoubtedly a first year, holding a roll of parchment. “Are you Hermione Granger?” the boy asked.

 

“Yes,” she said cautiously. “I am.”

 

The first year held out the parchment to her. “A boy with blonde hair asked me to give this to you.”

 

She smiled down at him and thanked him. He smiled and ran off to his next class. Hermione leaned against the wall and unrolled the parchment, immediately recognizing Draco’s elegant handwriting.

 

_Willow by the Black Lake. Ten minutes._

 

A little bit below that, barely visible through the scratch marks where he had tried to scribble it out, was one word.

 

_Please._

 

* * *

 

Hermione knew it was wrong to skip class. Until then, she never had, not once in all her years of education, both muggle and magic. But this was an exception. She and Draco hadn’t spoken since their conversation in the library last night and she was eager to see what he had to say.

 

Hermione made her way down the hill to the Black Lake. The sky was overcast and the trees swayed in the wind. She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck and chin and wondered why on Earth Draco wanted to be out here as opposed to inside the warm castle.

 

She spotted him where he said he would be; right underneath the willow that stood near the bank of the lake. He was sitting on the ground with his back pressed against the tree trunk and one leg extended out in front of him.

 

Whether she was shaking from the cold or nerves, she did not know. She approached as casually as she could muster and sat down beside him.

 

“You came,” he looked over at her, sounding surprised.

 

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” she asked.

 

He pondered this for a moment before shrugging. “I didn’t know what to expect.”

 

Hermione nodded. It made sense. She _had_ been pretty angry at him yesterday.

 

“Why are you out here?” she blurted out. “I mean, it’s freezing and it’s so warm in--”

 

“It’s quiet out here,” he said, cutting her off. He leaned his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. “It’s just too loud in there sometimes.”

She understood that. The library was often filled with students who had no idea how to whisper, and with winter upon them, no one wanted to be out on the grounds which meant the common rooms were quite often full.

 

“It definitely is quiet out here,” she muttered. Another gust of wind ruffled the dead grass around them. She shivered. “Well if we’re going to sit out here, we might as well be warm.” She pulled out her wand, pointed it at a nearby rock and muttered an incantation. A ball of blue flames appeared, and Draco made a small noise of approval.

 

“Look,” he said, his voice shaking with uncertainty. “You don’t have any reason to want to right now but just...stay here and study with me.”

 

The image of the scribbled out ‘please’ at the end of his note flashed into her mind. She could hear the silent pleading in his voice. She sighed heavily, knowing full and well that she _should_ insist they talk about yesterday.

 

“Alright,” she said after a few moments.

 

She heard him release a small sigh before he continued working on his homework. Hermione pulled out her half finished Defence Against the Dark Arts essay, and got to work.

 

* * *

 

“Harry, you really ought to ask someone to Slughorn’s party!” Hermione scolded as they walked back from the library. “It’s tomorrow!”

 

“And have you got a date?” he asked, now exasperated after she had bugged him about in the library for nearly an hour.

 

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “No,” she sniffed. Harry gave her a look and she rolled her eyes. “Oh alright. I’m going with...McLaggen,” she whispered, looking around to make sure no one had heard.

 

“McLaggen?” Harry asked, scrunching his nose. “You’re going with McLaggen? Hermione, he’s--”

 

“Awful, I know,” she sighed. She was absolutely dreading the party at this point. “He asked me and I didn’t want to show up alone, so...I said yes.”

 

“Or we could have gone together,” he said bitterly.

 

She smacked herself on the forehead and groaned loudly. “How did I not think of that?”

 

Harry shrugged. “You’ve seemed a bit distracted lately.”

 

“Have I?” she said airily.

 

“Hello Harry, Hermione,” said a dreamy voice from behind them.

 

Hermione and Harry stopped talking and looked around to find Luna smiling at them both. Hermione smiled at the Ravenclaw and dismissed herself before Harry could start asking questions.

 

* * *

 

When Hermione arrived at the library for her free period Friday morning, she found Draco sitting at her table. She’d stuck some toast into her bag for the both of them, hoping he would eat this morning.

 

“Good morning,” she said briskly, taking her usual seat across from him.

 

He glanced up at her, saw the pile of toast sitting on the table between them and grabbed a slice. He took half of it with one bite, popping the second half into his mouth seconds later. Hermione smirked and chuckled as he picked up another slice.

 

“I have an appetite today,” he explained.

 

“So I’ve noticed,” she said, sounding pleased, and helped herself to a piece of toast.

 

“Thank you,” he blurted out after a moment of hesitation. “For bringing the toast.”

 

It was the first time he had looked directly in her eyes, finally allowing her to really look at him. To see him. Neither of them had to say another word. They both knew what he meant, somehow. With Draco, she was beginning to realize that there was deeper meanings to the words he spoke. He didn’t lay everything out in the open, but made you dig beneath surface.

 

“Don’t mention it,” she answered a bit breathlessly.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day’s lessons passed far too quickly for her liking and by six o’clock that evening she was considering playing sick. She had confiscated some Puking Pastilles earlier from a group of fourth year Gryffindors, she could use one of those and Cormac would have to believe her. However, despite the fact that Harry was going with Luna, she’d promised him that she would go.

 

At seven, she started getting ready. She slipped into the deep purple halter-neck dress she had asked her mum to send her for the party and asked Ginny for help with her make-up and hair because she knew if she did it herself, it would look rubbish. By eight o’clock on the dot, she was walking arm in arm with Cormac McLaggen into Slughorn’s office. She’d met up with him five minutes previous and already all he had done was talk about himself. Why hadn’t she thought of going with Harry? She did _not_ want to spend the next few hours listening to the various saves Cormac had made during Quidditch.

 

“Oh, wow, really?” she said absentmindedly when she realized he had paused and was now staring at her. “That’s amazing.”

 

McLaggen broke into a smug smile. “I know, right?”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and scanned the room for something, _anything_ , to get her away from McLaggen. She asked him to get her some punch, but that only took a minute or two and she couldn’t escape quick enough. As soon as they had settled off to the side of the crowded room, he picked up right where he had left off upon their arrival. Hermione nodded, ‘oooh’ing and ‘ahhh’ing at all the right moments while she stared out at the crowd, watching everyone chat animately and enjoy themselves. As she sipped her punch, she found her thoughts wandering back to Draco. _What was he doing tonight?_

 

Professor Slughorn came up to the two of them minutes later, insisting McLaggen come with him to meet some of his old colleagues, and Hermione had to her hide her relieved smile as their Professor dragged him away. _Finally,_ she thought to herself. With McLaggen gone, Hermione roamed the crowd for a few minutes. She had almost reached the food table when she heard someone shout her name.

 

“Hermione!” Harry called, pushing past several people with Luna behind him.

 

“Harry,” she said, relieved.

 

“McLaggen is looking for you,” he said. “He’s heading this way.”

 

Hermione cursed under her breath. “Sorry Harry, I’ll see you back at the common room later!” she called as she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Hermione stepped outside Slughorn’s office, she cast a concealment charm on herself, and felt it wave over her body to become invisible for a short amount of time. She didn’t want to go back to the common room, and she definitely did not want to go back to the party. She wandered down the corridor a bit until she saw an open classroom. Not wanting to nudge the door, she slipped carefully between the narrow opening.

 

Once inside, she walked over to one of the windows and stared down at the grounds. She looked out at the horizon and the grounds blanketed in darkness, letting her thoughts wander wherever she pleased. It wasn’t often that she could sit down and just think in peace and quiet. To just let her thoughts flow, and delve into the depths of her mind. She could picture Malfoy sitting underneath the tree by the lake, wearing an expression that closely resembled content, for once.

 

_It’s quiet out here..._

 

There was a bang to her right and when she turned to see what had made the noise, her heart plummeted to her stomach. The door slammed behind them and she watched, still invisible, as Snape slowly backed Draco towards the wall by the Professor’s desk. Hermione dropped down against the wall, pulling her knees to her chest.

 

“You’re being foolish, Draco. Wandering about the castle--” Snape snapped dangerously.

 

“Stay out of my business--”

 

“Do you think now is the time for mistakes? You have to be careful. All will be ruined if--” Snape spoke so softly, Hermione had a hard time hearing him from across the room.

 

Draco looked murderous; she’d never seen him so angry. What in Merlin’s name was going on?

 

“I know the stakes of this!” Draco shouted, his voice cracking. “ _He_ made it pretty hard to forget.”

 

“Well you’re acting as if you don’t,” Snape said over him. He was towering over Draco now, nearly blocking the blonde from her view. “There are several people who suspect you had a hand in the Bell girl’s accident.”

 

“I’ve told you already, I didn’t do it!” Malfoy snapped, attempting to step around Snape.

 

Hermione’s legs were growing stiff with them pressed so tightly against her front, but there was no way she could move. She would have to remain still until Snape and Malfoy left.

 

“Nice try, _Professor._ But I’m afraid you won’t get in,” Malfoy sneered triumphantly.

 

There was a long pause. Hermione couldn’t see what they were doing.

 

“Your mother has been teaching you Occlumency?” Snape said lowly.

 

Malfoy didn’t say anything but judging by Snape’s response, his answer had been a yes. Why would Draco need to know Occlumency? Harry had learned it last year to keep out Voldemort but... _no. No, no, no,_ Hermione thought, a wave of dread and fear crashing over her. _Malfoy couldn’t have learned it for the same reason… right? Maybe,_ she thought, _it was to keep his father out, or Snape, or maybe just because his mother had thought it was something he should know._

 

“What are you going to do about it?” Malfoy yelled. “Give me a month’s detention? Hm? Run off and tell Dumbledore?”

 

Snape, to Hermione’s surprise, remained silent. In all of their years at Hogwarts, Hermione had never seen or heard Malfoy talk to Snape -- or anyone -- that way. She felt a pang of guilt and regretted the times she had nagged him over what he was doing. Apparently he was getting enough of that from Snape. She didn’t want him to push her away like he was trying to with their past Potions Professor.

 

It was after several agonizing silent moments that Snape spoke again. “Draco,” he said and Hermione nearly gasped at how gentle his voice sounded. “I made the Unbreakable Vow to your mother. I can’t--”

 

“I don’t care,” said Draco, his voice lifeless and monotone. “I don’t care what worthless promises you’ve made. You’re not going to help me. This job is mine and mine _alone.”_ With a venomous bite of his last word, Draco used all his strength to push past Snape and storm out of the classroom.

 

Snape followed almost immediately, his cape billowing behind him before flapping out of sight. Hermione sat frozen on the floor, heart and mind racing and not being able to do anything but stare straight ahead and feel her heart break over everything she had just heard.


	9. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by oeuvre24
> 
> This chapter starts with the Christmas Holidays, and we're really excited about these next few chapters! We hope you enjoy reading them as much as we enjoy writing them!

 

“Hermione.” A sharp voice and push at her shoulder made Hermione open her eyes slowly. She felt extremely tired, her head was pounding and the view that greeted her was not one she ever wanted to experience again. Lavender was standing by her bedside, already dressed,  _ covered _ in makeup, with her hair done perfectly, looking down at her in annoyance.

 

“What?” Hermione asked and cleared her throat when her voice cracked from being asleep. She pulled the covers up to her shoulders slightly and couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit self-conscious. Every morning since she started at Hogwarts, before she pulled back the curtains around her bed, she made sure her hair wasn’t sticking up  _ too  _ much, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and made sure she wouldn’t embarrass herself by walking to the bathroom with drool on her chin, or her pyjamas twisted around. Now, with Lavender hovering over her, she didn’t have a chance to do any of that.

 

“Harry and Ron are leaving now,” Lavender told her. “Harry told me to come get you, so…” She trailed off and then turned around and left the dormitory.

 

Hermione groaned and then yawned widely. She sat up and did her usual in-bed-morning-routine before getting out from beneath the warmth of her covers. She grabbed her dressing gown from the foot of her bed and wrapped it around herself, knowing that there would be no one else in the common room but Harry, Ron and Ginny since they were leaving for the Burrow especially early. She headed down the stairs and stopped at the bottom to see Harry standing to the side awkwardly with Ginny while Lavender and Ron were in a tight lip-lock.

 

“Morning,” Harry smiled when he noticed Hermione.

 

“Morning, Harry,” she smiled back tiredly and walked over. “How was the rest of the party?” She asked him.

 

“As bad as I thought it would be,” Harry shrugged. “Listen, I have something to tell you when we come back from holidays,” he said quietly, moving closer so Ginny — who was now snapping at Ron for him to ‘get a move on’ — couldn’t hear.

 

Hermione sighed. “It’s not about what, or  _ who _ , I think it will be?” She had an idea that Harry would want to pass off more suspicions about Draco’s activities.  _ Which are completely untrue _ , she thought quickly. She knew Draco was innocent. She thought back to the night before, hearing Snape confront Draco in the classroom they didn’t know she’d been hiding in. She wouldn’t have put it past Harry to somehow find a way to listen in on that conversation as well. She knew her best friend and knew that when he put his mind to something — especially to find out things he shouldn’t — he was more than able to do it.

 

“Well… It is, but I—” Harry began but was cut off.

 

“We need to go, Harry, come on,” Ginny came over, smiling at him and Hermione. “Have a good Christmas, Hermione.”

 

“You too, Gin,” Hermione told her and gave her a quick hug. “Merry Christmas, Harry,” she then told her friend, giving him a hug as well. “Stop suspecting,” she whispered to him before pulling back.

 

Harry rolled his eyes and waved at her as he headed out of the common room with Ginny, Ron and Lavender who had decided to walk with them all. Hermione was still angry with Ron, so didn’t so much as wave at him when he left, but turned around and went back up to the dormitories to sleep in for a little while longer.

 

When she woke up two hours later, the dormitory was quiet and still. She pulled back her curtains and found the other beds in the room empty, all evidence of anyone else being there, gone. She hadn’t really expected anyone to say goodbye to her, but the sight of the vacant room was a stark reminder of how she felt, and had been feeling for quite a while now — rather empty.

 

She dressed for the day in jeans and a heavy jumper after she’d showered, then put on her shoes to go to breakfast. The common room was just as empty and quiet as the dormitory had been, and she walked through the room quickly and out the portrait. The hallways that were normally filled with noise and life, bustling with students, were cold and empty, but Hermione knew exactly why. Parents were scared; they didn’t want their children staying away from them when the opportunity for them to be home was there. She knew for a fact that if she enlightened her parents as to all the events that were happening in the Wizarding World, they wouldn’t have let her come back at all that year.

 

She didn’t think she was wrong, however, in not telling them. They knew about Voldemort and about the events at the end of their fourth year, but she had not told them about what happened at the Ministry only months ago. Her parents had known something was wrong, though, they were not unobservant. They noticed how little Hermione smiled and laughed, and more than once her mum had came to her room to find her curled up on her bed crying. Hermione had sometimes blamed it on missing her friends, and other times blamed it on the teasing she endured. She loved her parents dearly, and desperately wanted to tell them about the very real threat of Voldemort wreaking more havoc on the Wizarding world, but she loved Hogwarts too much to ever risk not being able to go back. She loved her friends too much to never see them again. And she absolutely  _ hated  _ the Muggle high school she would have to attend if her parents ever took her out of Hogwarts. The school was filled with the girls who had made her primary school years a living hell, and she would  _ not  _ go back.

 

“G’mornin’, ‘Ermione,” a loud voice spoke when Hermione got to the Entrance Hall. She looked up and smiled when she saw Hagrid dressed in his usual heavy winter coat, smiling at her.

 

“Morning, Hagrid,” she greeted him. “How are you?”

 

“‘M fine,” Hagrid answered. “Thought I’d come in ter have some breakfast. Not many students ‘round, is there?”

 

“No,” Hermione agreed and walked with him into the Great Hall. “Everyone’s gone home for the holidays.”

 

“Ye’r not?” Hagrid asked.

 

“No,” she shook her head. “My parents left for their holiday a few days ago and I didn’t really want to go to the Burrow,” she said sheepishly.

 

“Ah, yeah…” Hagrid nodded in understanding. “Well if yeh want ter come to visit, yeh know where I am.”

 

“Of course,” Hermione smiled and said goodbye to him. It was only then that she noticed how the Great Hall looked. Instead of the usual four, long house tables, only one sat in the centre of the hall, vertical with the staff table at the head of the room. It was then that she truly knew just how many students had left. There was a group of fourth year Hufflepuffs, she recognised, at one end of the table, and two much younger students (a Gryffindor and Ravenclaw) sitting together. It seemed she was the only sixth year student left. She looked to the staff table and saw Hagrid sit beside Professor Slughorn, and she smiled when she saw Professor McGonagall give her a small wave and a smile — a very rare sight.

 

Hermione took a seat at the other end of the student table and began to put some breakfast food onto her plate. She looked down the table once more and sighed, knowing it was going to be a long, lonely, and no doubt boring, two week break, and she just hoped she had enough homework to fill her time up.

 

She was halfway through her food when she looked up in surprise from hearing Draco’s voice. “Can I sit?” He asked. He looked as though he’d had a proper sleep, as some colour had returned to his face, not making him look so pale and sick.

 

She looked at the space around her. “Don’t you see all the people desperate to sit with me? You might have to find somewhere else,” she joked, wondering if it would go over well.

 

It did, and he rolled his eyes before sitting across from her. “Not many people here,” he commented as he piled food onto her plate. She couldn’t help but give a small smile in satisfaction because he was eating properly again — eating quite a lot, by the looks of things.

 

“Nope,” she agreed and ate some eggs. “Why are you staying?” She asked curiously.

 

Draco didn’t answer at first and she didn’t push him.  _ You can’t nag him. He doesn’t need it from me too _ , she reminded herself. “My mother’s visiting my grandparents and I don’t want to go,” he finally answered.

 

“Fair enough…” Hermione nodded and had something to drink. “I’ve never had any grandparents. I mean, well of course I’ve  _ had  _ grandparents but I’ve never met them,” she told him, not really knowing why.

 

He was looking at his plate, continuing to eat. “Right?” He said in confusion and carried on eating.

 

“Well, you see, my mum’s parents lived in Ireland, but they passed away before I was a year old, and my dad’s parents passed away before he’d even met my mum, so I’ve never…” She trailed off from her blabbering when she saw the look on Draco’s face. His eyes were fixed in a hard glare and his jaw was clenched tightly. She was about to ask him why her talking about her grandparents had made him so livid, when she realised he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking past her, and when she turned her head slightly, she saw the reason why.

 

Professor Snape had walked into the Great Hall and was walking to their end of the table. She quickly looked back at her plate of food with wide eyes. If any Professor were to let it slip that they had seen her and Draco sitting together, it would surely be Snape, and it wouldn’t be by accident. “Draco,” the Professor said sharply, standing by them. “Come to my office later on today.  _ Don’t _ think about not coming.”

 

Draco didn’t look at their Professor at all, but stabbed a bit of breakfast sausage rather hard and put it in his mouth. Hermione didn’t move an inch until Snape stormed off to the staff table, then she let out a breath. “What was that about?” She breathed.

 

“Nothing,” Draco snapped. “Leave it.”

 

And for once… She did.

 

* * *

 

 

“Professor Vector?” Hermione called out to her Arithmancy Professor when she saw the witch come down the corridor.

 

“Hermione,” Professor Vector greeted with a smile and walked up to her. “How can I help?”

 

“I was just wondering,” Hermione began, “Do you have any extra work you could give me?” She asked. “I was going to spread my homework out over the holidays, but I finished most of my Arithmancy work yesterday. If I could read ahead or if you could give me something to work on, that would be great,” she smiled.

 

It was the second day of the holidays and Hermione had in fact finished most of her Arithmancy homework the day before. After her and Draco’s run in with Snape at the breakfast table, Draco had left abruptly and she hadn’t seen him for the rest of the day. With no one to talk to and nothing else to do, she went to the library and studied until dinner time.

 

“Oh, Hermione,” Vector smiled and put her hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “I don’t, dear, but there’s a few Arithmancy books in the stacks you could read if you want. It’s the holidays, spend some time with your friends before classes start back,” she laughed lightly.

 

Hermione forced herself to keep smiling, and she nodded. “Uh… Okay. Thank you, Professor,” she said and before the older witch could get in a word edgewise, Hermione turned and walked back the way she came, towards the Gryffindor common room.  Her stomach had sunk and she was starting to regret not sending a letter to her parents to ask if they could postpone their trip until she could come. She was even starting to wish she could go to the Burrow, because even if Harry and Ron were unbearable, she would still have Ginny to hang around with. Instead, she was stuck at the castle, with one person she  _ could  _ talk to easily, but he didn’t want to. She had really hoped that because of the lack of students around, Draco would be more willing to talk to her and be seen with her, but by his disappearance act the day before, she didn’t think he had changed.

 

_ Is it really a surprise? _ She thought to herself bitterly.  _ If Ron and Harry can leave you here easily, Draco can too. _

 

She stormed up to her dormitory once she’d gotten to the Gryffindor tower, and grabbed her blanket from the foot of the bed, rolling it into a ball and tucking it under her arm. She picked up the novel she was reading from her bedside table, and left just as quickly as she arrived, making her way through the castle, trying to keep her wits about her, taking deep, calm breaths. The doors to the ground were open, thankfully, and she headed to where her and Draco had studied before: the Willow tree by the lake.

 

She was freezing by the time she got under the tree’s shade, and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders as she sat down with her back against the large trunk, putting her book on the ground next to her. Even though she was wearing warm clothes and had the blanket around her, she was still cold, so used her wand to conjure a blue flame a few feet in front of her. She stared out at the lake in front of her, not blinking until her eyes stung from the cold. Everything was so calm. So quiet. So different to the wild and deafening thoughts that were rattling around her mind.

 

The first tear came as a surprise, running down her nose and falling from the tip of it. She wiped her cheek and looked down at the wetness on her fingertips, then her walls crumbled. She pulled her legs to her chest which was heaving as she sobbed, and her neck strained as she rest her forehead on her knees, letting her tears run freely, dampening the fabric of her jeans. She cried because she missed her parents. She cried because she missed Harry and Ron. She cried because this year wasn’t turning out as she had hoped it would and she hated the way she was being treated by everyone, it seemed. And lastly, she cried for Draco, the boy she’d never thought she would have a care in the world for, but now, found herself caring too much. The boy who had been, and was meant to be, her enemy, was now the only person who spent time with her, talked to her…listened to her.

 

She didn’t know how long she cried for. She couldn’t even recall the last time she had cried like that, cried gut wrenching sobs that made her head and stomach hurt. When she lifted her head from her knees, she used the blanket to wipe her face but knew she would look a mess. Her cheeks and nose always turned red when she cried, and her eyes were probably bloodshot and puffy. She knew no one would find her out here though; she could sit out here for the rest of the day and no one would question where she was, even if it wasn’t the holidays.

 

She let herself calm down and after a long while, found the strength to reach down and pick her book up from where she’d put it down beside her. She flicked open to the page she had bookmarked and began to read, hoping that the fiction would be able to transport her away in her mind. It managed to do that, and she even found herself smiling at some parts, wishing she could be the main character, wishing, and hoping…

 

“Granger? What are you doing here?”

 

Hermione jumped and almost dropped her book. She turned her head and saw Draco walking towards her, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He didn’t look like a student on holidays; dressed in a white button-up shirt and black trousers.  _ No jacket _ , she noticed. “I don’t need your permission to sit here, Malfoy,” she said and her voice was quite hoarse from crying, not wanting to put up with him if he was going to act moody and snappy with her. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and went back to reading… Well, she  _ tried  _ to anyway, but couldn’t concentrate with him standing by her side. “ _ What _ ?” She closed her book and glared up at him.

 

“Nothing,” he said and sat down with his back to the tree trunk as well. “I went to the library and you weren’t there.”

 

“Yes, well I don’t spend my whole life in there, contrary to what people believe,” Hermione retorted and stared out at the lake.

 

“I know you don’t,” Draco shrugged and looked out at the water too.

 

It was quiet between them and she ran her fingers over the cover of her book. She didn’t want to be the one to speak first, and kept her mouth shut stubbornly.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked after many minutes of quiet between them.

 

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. Somehow, that question made her want to cry again. She nodded her head and refused to look at him.

 

“You don’t look okay,” Draco replied.

 

“Speak for yourself,” she retorted and her voice was thick.

 

“True,” he drawled and she could out of the corner of her eyes that he was looking at her. “You don’t need to talk about it.”

 

She appreciated that. If she had been sitting with Harry, he wouldn’t have known what to say, and if she were with Ron, he wouldn’t have known either and probably would have told her to ‘brighten up’. She let out a breath and tapped her fingers on her book. “I thought sixth year would be better,” she spoke. She turned her head slightly and saw him nod. “And now I keep thinking that I made a mistake by staying here during the holidays and that I should have gone on holiday with my parents.”

 

“Why didn’t you?” He asked.

 

“The plan was that I was going to go to the Burrow with Harry and Ron, but… I’m not going to go stay with Ron for two weeks when he’s acting horrible to me every time we see each other. I can’t do  _ anything  _ without him making some stupid, immature comment. I thought those days were behind us!”

 

Draco hummed in agreement quietly. “Is it because of that girl he’s seeing?”

 

Hermione almost choked. “ _ What _ ?” She scoffed. “ _ Lavender _ ?! Merlin, no, I couldn’t care less about Ron having a girlfriend or not, those days are long gone for me. I just hate that the person who I thought was my best friend, is now the person who teases me behind my back, who mimics me and turns the rest of my friends against me.”

 

“Don’t let it get to you,” Draco said.

 

“It’s too late for that,” Hermione said. “He makes sure that Harry doesn’t talk to me, did you know that?” She looked at him.

 

“Yeah, I figured,” he nodded. “They’re assholes, Granger. It’s about time you realised that.” Hermione gave a tiny smile and sniffed slightly. “Look…” He said and his voice sounded strained, “I know you’ve been crying.”

 

“Good for you,” she said, not wanting to show her embarrassment. She hoped he hadn’t actually seen her cry; she hated letting her guard down in front of people.

 

“Is it really just Weasley that’s making you upset?”

 

She didn’t answer at first. Why did he want to know? Why was he suddenly  _ caring _ about how she felt? “No,” she admitted. “It’s not.” After a while, she noticed that he didn’t push her to keep talking. She wished that she’d taken that approach when talking to him — it may have meant a lot of their conversations wouldn’t have ended in as many fights. She turned to look at him, “I don’t think I’m ready to say. Just yet.”

 

Draco nodded and then stood up again, brushing off the seat of his trousers. “Come on,” he said.

 

She furrowed her brows and looked up at him. “Where?” She asked. He didn’t answer and started walking closer to the lake. She sighed and stood up, leaving her blanket and book at the foot of the tree, and walked over to him. “This is probably the coldest bit on the whole grounds, you know,” she said as she stood next to him and crossed her arms tightly to her chest.

 

“Yeah but it clears your mind, though,” Draco shrugged and had his hands back in his pockets.

 

She looked at him. “How are you not cold?” She asked him in confusion as he stood there looking as if the weather didn’t bother him a bit.

 

“Who said that?” He snorted and withdrew a hand from his pocket and before either of them could wonder why he had done it, he pressed the back of his fingers to her cheek.

 

She pulled her head back from the cold sting of his fingers, not even registering the fact that it had been the first time they had touched on purpose. “ _ Malfoy _ ,” she breathed, “You’re freezing, you’re going to become hypothermic!”

 

“Relax,” he drawled. “I’m used to it. My hands are always cold,” he shrugged.

 

Hermione eyed him in concern but let him be. She scuffed her feet on the stones they were standing upon when an idea popped into her mind. She bent over and found a flat edged stone and picked it up, the rock cold and hard in her palm. “Do you know how to skip rocks?” She asked him.

 

“What?” He furrowed his brows.

 

“You haven’t skipped rocks before?” She asked in surprise. He shook his head in answering. “I’ll have to fix that then,” she gave a small smile. “Find a flat, smooth rock,” she told him and moved closer to the water’s edge. She heard the rocks move and then he stood next to her and showed her what he had picked. She moved her hand and picked it up from his palm, inspecting it before giving it back, “That’s a good one.”

 

“That’s why I picked it.”

 

She rolled her eyes and then fixed her position. She swung her arm back behind her then used as much power as she could to fling her hand forward and let go of the rock. It skipped once before, with a resounding ‘plop’, it sunk under water. She took a step back and turned to Draco. “Go on then,” she smiled.

 

He rolled his eyes and looked down at the stone. “Why?” He asked.

 

“You don’t have to do everything for a reason,” she answered. “Just do it. It’s fun.” He stared at her for a few seconds before going closer to the water. “Put your left leg in front,” she instructed. “And swing your arm back and then forward really hard and keep low to the water.”

 

Draco did as he was instructed and brought his arm forward with much more strength than she possessed, and the rock flew from his hand and bounced twice before sinking.

 

“That’s good!” Hermione clapped her hands together a couple of times and he smirked when he turned around. “Beginner’s luck?”

 

“No, just talent,” Draco drawled and she laughed.

 

“Go again,” she said and quickly bent down to find another stone. “We’ll see who can get the farthest.”

 

“You’re on, Granger,” he agreed and leaned over too.

 

She spotted a perfect rock, and as she moved her hand forward to take it, Draco reached down and grabbed it. “Hey! That was my rock!”

 

“You don’t have ownership of the rocks, Granger, get real,” he snorted and she wondered if he would find it funny if she pushed him into the water. She didn’t need to be a genius to know that he definitely would not find the humorous side of it.

 

She found a rock that was suitable enough and picked it up then took her place next to Draco. He counted to three and then the two of them launched their rocks forward to skip across the water. “Hah!” She exclaimed when her rock skipped four times and his only once. “I won!”

 

“Yeah, right,” Draco rolled his eyes. “You threw me off.”

 

“I did no—”

 

A splash sounded from the lake and when they looked out at the water, they saw a large tentacle rise up and pelt their rocks back at them. Hermione screeched and lifted her arms to cover her head and ran back quickly to the tree with Draco running alongside her, his arms also up. She didn’t notice through her fear, until they stopped at the tree, that he had been laughing. He was still laughing, even after they had stopped, and he leant back against the tree with his head tipped forward. Her fear from the giant squid disappeared as she watched him, seeing him enjoy himself, and it didn’t take long at all for her to laugh along with him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hi,” Hermione greeted Draco at the dinner table as she sat down across from him, like they had at breakfast time. Shortly after their run-in with the giant squid at the lake, Draco had excused himself, saying he had to go back to the Slytherin common room to take care of some things. She hadn’t questioned him, and had taken her things back to the Gryffindor tower to lay in bed and read before taking a nap.

 

He had a newspaper in front of him and looked up from it to give her a nod, acknowledging her presence. He also had a half-finished plate of dinner in front of him and she watched him pick up his fork and pierce a piece of fish to bring to his mouth and eat.

 

“Anything happening?” She asked, pointing at the newspaper.

 

“Just more Ministry cock-ups, as per usual,” he answered and passed her the sauce when she asked for it to add to the sausages she’d just put onto her plate.

 

“The Ministry needs a reform,” she commented and put two generous scoops of mashed potato on her plate. “No one in high-power knows what they’re doing and none of them listen to the people they’re actually  _ Ministering  _ over!”

 

“Tell me about it,” Draco said a few seconds later and her fork froze halfway to her mouth as she looked at him. His expression had changed from earlier as she spoke about the Ministry and it dawned on her what the Ministry had done to Draco’s family in the past few months.

 

“Draco, I’m sorry,” she apologised quickly in a soft voice. “I didn’t mean to bring it up, I mean, well, I did, but I didn’t mean for you to associate it with your fath—”

 

“Can you do me a favour?” Draco interrupted her, staring at her.

 

Her mouth was still half open from her babbled rush of words before, and she nodded quickly at his question. “Uh, yes. Well, no, it depends…”

 

His look made her close her mouth and stop talking again. “I have a lot of homework piled up,” he told her and it surprised her that he spoke about that after what she’d rambled on about. She didn’t blame him for changing the subject. “If I don’t finish what’s due at the end of the holidays, I’m going to get even more detentions and they have to send a letter home and I don’t want my moth—” He stopped himself. “I just need to get it all done.”

 

Hermione paused and then nodded again. “I can help you,” she said. “I don’t have a lot of homework at all and it would be good to have something to do.”

 

Draco nodded and picked up his fork again.

 

“But I’m not going to just give you the answers, okay? You need to do the work, my help stops at just that:  _ help _ . I’m not going to be your personal essay writer, or do your—”

 

“Granger, stop,” he chuckled softly and shook his head. “I don’t want you to do all that. I need help understanding things, and that’s it. Plus, don’t you think our Professors would get a little suspicious if all of a sudden I started writing essays like you do?”

 

“That never stopped Harry or Ron before…”

 

“How long is it going to take you to realise that I’m not like those idiots you call friends,” he told her. “I do my own work. I wouldn’t let anyone copy from me if I was in your position. Crab and Goyle badgered me all of last year to copy my Potions’ homework since Blaise and Theo didn’t let them anymore but I never let them. That’s why they’re not in Potions this year.”

 

Hermione laughed at that. “Maybe I should have done that too,” she said. “I wonder how things would have turned out if I’d done something differently like that.”

 

“Don’t we all?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Where can I find ‘heritage’?” Draco asked, looking up from his Ancient Runes textbook. Dinner had passed, and Hermione had met him in the library after gathering her own books to help out and do some work of her own.

 

“Chapter seven,” she answered. “It’s under Daily Life and Human Condition.” She watched him flick through the book to reach where she had told him. “Either  _ opila _ or  _ opala _ depending on how your essay structure is,” she added.

 

She watched his finger trail down the page until he reached what he needed. “Ah, thanks,” he said and picked up his quill to start writing again.

 

Hermione picked up her own quill and worked through her own Runes’ translation sheet. The both of them worked in comfortable silence and he would ask her questions when he needed to and she would help out, still giving him the challenge of working out the problem for himself. A few times, she glanced up through her eyelashes and watched the tiny twitch upwards of his lip when he worked out a translation and managed to write more to his essay.

 

“Is Ancient Runes your favourite class?” He asked much later. He sat up straight in his chair and stretched his arms above his head to crack his shoulders. She heard his bones pop and winced at the sound.

 

“No, Arithmancy is,” she answered him. “I find Arithmancy more of a challenge and I love figuring it out.”

 

“Really?” His forehead creased. “I find this much tougher than Arithmancy,” he said.

 

“I don’t know what it is about Runes that I just…I just  _ get _ , you know? Do you have something that you can do and do perfectly every time with little practice?” She asked and he nodded. “That’s Runes to me, for some reason.”

 

He was watching her as she spoke and looked genuinely interested in what she had to say. “Translations are easy for you?”

 

“No, well, they’re still  _ difficult _ , but I figure things out quite quickly. I have a little more trouble actually writing in Runes, rather than reading them. Plus, I always end up drawing the symbols the wrong way, or length,” she laughed quietly.

 

“I do that in Astronomy,” he smirked. “I end up drawing a constellation but just one star is out of place by a few inches and it takes on a whole new shape and meaning.”

 

“I like Astronomy, it’s very interesting,” Hermione nodded. “I couldn’t keep doing it as a subject though, I value the ones I do now much higher than I ever did with that.”

 

“My mother likes me to do it,” Draco said. “Says that it’s good for me to learn constellations since it’s apart of my family history. On my mother’s side.”

 

“Ah, yes,” Hermione nodded, keeping it tightly to herself that she had seen the tapestry in Grimmauld Place with the Black family members and their names taken from the sky. “What does yours represent?” She asked curiously. “The Draco constellation, I mean.”

 

“There’s a few different mythological stories connected to it,” he explained and she was fully captivated listening to him speak about something he was so clearly interested in and knew a lot about. “From Greek mythology, the constellation is named after Ladon the dragon. It guarded the golden apples of Hesperides, but was killed by Hercules during his twelve labors.”

 

“Wow,” she breathed. “I never knew that.”

 

“The Hercules constellation is actually near the Draco constellation,” he told her. “You can see it in most of the textbooks,” he tilted his head towards the stacks of books.

 

“So there’s lots of stories to your constellation?” She asked.

 

Draco nodded. “There’s a few depending on which mythology you take it from. The Greco-Roman meaning is different to the Greek, which is different to Arabic astronomy,” he listed. “Just depends.”

 

“It really is interesting,” Hermione said. “I like learning about topics like that.”

 

“It’s not often people want to be told,” he shrugged and dipped his quill in his ink pot to resume writing.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was stopped just before she entered the Gryffindor common room. “Professor?” She asked when she saw Professor McGonagall waiting by the portrait.

 

“Miss Granger,” McGonagall greeted her and Hermione noticed that she was holding a textbook and a small stack of parchment in her hands. “Professor Vector told me you’d been asking for more work?”

 

“Oh… Yes, I did,” Hermione admitted, her cheeks turning red in embarrassment. “I finished everything else, but she told me to spend time with my friends instead and to enjoy the holidays, but—”

 

“Your idea of enjoying it is learning?” McGonagall assumed with a small smile.

 

“Um, yes. It is,” Hermione nodded, her cheeks flaming now.

 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” the older witch told her and then handed her the book and parchment in her hands. “Here’s a few things you can do over the next two weeks,” she told her.

 

Hermione took the items and looked down with them with a small smile. “How—?” She trailed off her question.

 

“I knew a girl like you once, many years ago, whose idea of fun and enjoyment was through learning and achievements, not always wanting to be social,” McGonagall told her with a kind look in her eyes.

 

Hermione smiled too and she held the work to her chest. “Professor, was that girl you?” She asked.

 

Professor McGonagall simply gave her a knowing smile. “You can hand the work in for marking if you’d like, you know where my office is. Goodnight, Miss Granger,” she farewelled and walked away.

 

“Goodnight,” Hermione responded and was glad that she wasn’t in alone in her way of thinking.

 


	10. Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me. 
> 
> Don't forget that oeuvre24 is uploading this fic on ff.net!

Hermione rolled to her other side and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She rolled a bit too far and plopped onto the common room floor with a thud. She groaned at the slight pain in her back and threw the blanket off of her with a huff of frustration. She opened her eyes and stared up at the high ceiling of the common room. 

 

It had been too difficult to sleep in the dormitory alone last night. Why she had a hard time sleeping last night but not the night before, she didn’t know. Especially since she’d had a good day yesterday. After an hour or so of tossing and turning in her bed, she had gone down to the common room, lit the fire and curled up under a warm blanket. She’d fallen asleep within minutes, the last thing she remembered seeing was the memory of Draco’s face as he laughed. 

 

Her stomach grumbled and Hermione took that as her cue to get up and head down to breakfast. She went to the dormitory and changed her clothes, throwing on a black jumper her mum had given her a few years ago, a pair of jeans and trainers, then pulled her hair back in a ponytail. She splashed some water on her face before she grabbed her bag and headed out of the portrait hole. 

 

“Morning, Granger.”

 

Hermione jumped at the sudden sound and frowned as she turned to look down at Draco who had been sitting on the ground next to the Fat Lady’s portrait. “Don’t scare me like that.” 

 

“He’s been here since seven,” the Fat Lady said stiffly. 

 

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You have?” 

 

Draco shrugged and stood up. “I’m an early riser. I’ve been  _ awake  _ since five, and I thought you would be up early, hence me being here.” 

 

She glanced down at her watch; it was almost five past eight. Draco had been sitting there for an hour already. He gestured for her to walk with him and she did, heading left down the corridor. “I normally am an early riser,” she told him. “I guess I was just really tired last night.” 

 

He yawned, covering his mouth was his hand and shook his head afterwards, trying to wake himself up.  _ How much sleep did he get last night?  _ She wondered.

 

“Where are we going?” she asked. She didn’t mind their casual pace, but her stomach was rumbling loudly again. She had completely forgotten she was meant heading to breakfast. 

 

“I just wanted to take a walk,” he said with a shrug. “But if you have something you need to do--”

 

“No, it’s fine,” she said quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “I’m just hungry, that’s all.” 

 

“Shall we grab some food first?” he suggested. 

 

She nodded eagerly. He yawned again. “And coffee,” she said pointedly. 

 

She smiled down at the ground after she saw the smirk that graced his lips. They took their time walking to the Great Hall, spending most of it in silence. The castle was peacefully quiet, with not a soul in sight. Hermione admired the way the sun shone against the suits of armor and hit the stone walls as she listened to their footsteps echo around them. 

 

“I was thinking we could focus on my Potions homework today?” he said after several minutes of comfortable silence. 

 

Hermione nodded. “Alright.” 

 

When they arrived at the Great Hall, their footsteps faltered when they saw Professor McGonagall sitting alone at the teacher’s table, her face hidden by The Daily Prophet. The other students must have already come down or were still sleeping. Draco looked at her as if to say ‘let’s just forget about it’ but Hermione gave him a pleading look and her stomach grumbled louder this time. He rolled his eyes and waved his arm in front of him. 

 

They were still a good foot away from the table when Professor McGonagall spoke. “Good morning, Miss Granger. Mister Malfoy,” she said in an amused tone. 

 

Hermione felt her stomach sink. Draco shuffled away from her to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Professor McGonagall,” she greeted airily, piling some toast onto a napkin. 

 

Their Professor folded up the newspaper and set it down in the empty chair next to her. “And what brings the two of you together?” 

 

“Erm,” Hermione fumbled. 

 

“Granger’s helping me with my missed work,” Draco said, appearing at her side. 

 

Hermione nodded, but couldn’t find it in herself to look McGonagall in the eye. She could feel her cheeks burning. She had wanted to avoid these sorts of situations at all costs. 

 

“Not doing it for him, I hope?” Professor McGonagall said, looking at Hermione now. 

 

“No, Professor,” Hermione replied. “Of course not.” 

 

Professor McGonagall nodded. An awkward silence fell between the three. Professor McGonagall’s gaze lingered on Hermione for a moment longer before she smiled pleasantly at the both of them. 

 

“That’s very kind of you, Miss Granger,” she said politely. “Would you care to discuss some of the theories you’ve read about in the extra reading I gave you? Assuming you’ve started reading them.” 

 

Hermione’s cheeks burned even more in embarrassment. She had not started the extra work Professor McGonagall had given her, and now Draco knew that she was doing unnecessary work. 

 

“I haven’t started it yet, but perhaps by this evening?” Hermione offered. 

 

“Around eight?” Professor McGonagall said. 

 

“I’ll be there,” she answered and left without another word before Professor McGonagall could keep them there any longer. 

 

Hermione had a very strong feeling Professor McGonagall had no intention of discussing Transfiguration theories that night. 

 

* * *

 

“You know she’s going to ask questions,” Draco said, sounding perturbed as they headed towards the grounds. 

 

“I’m sure,” she hummed in agreement. “But it’s not as if there’s anything going on. I mean, in terms of what our houses are, and...other things, yes, it is odd. But we talk and do homework and read. That’s all there is to it.” 

 

“Still,” Draco said. “It’s none of her business.” 

 

They sipped their coffee and nibbled on toast as they walked around the edge of the Black Lake. Hermione quite liked the silence between them; no pressure to talk about menial things, or talk about anything for that matter. She could do this with Harry and Ron of course, but with Draco it was different. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. 

 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but,” Hermione started, then paused, gnawing her bottom lip as she chose her next words carefully. “I mean, well, you were  _ outside  _ my common room this morning. Is everything alright?” 

 

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” he said, looking straight ahead. 

 

Hermione pursed her lips at his rhetorical response but said nothing more on the matter. She was going to stick to her word. If he didn’t want to talk, that was just fine. 

 

The sky was covered with thick light gray clouds and the slight wind was like knives against her cheeks. It certainly didn’t feel as though Christmas was just two days away. No snow had fallen upon Hogwarts yet, and with everything going on this year, it was hard to imagine people celebrating the joyous holiday. 

 

Christmas used to be her favorite time of year, but this year she couldn’t seem to bring herself to care much. Whether it was absence of her two best friends and Mrs. Weasley’s pies and homemade sweaters, or her parents company and her mum’s famous chocolate chip cookies, perhaps the war brewing on the horizon, or maybe a combination of all three. It just didn’t feel like the holiday she normally loved. She knew she would end up spending the day doing extra work for McGonagall and helping Draco with his homework and that sounded just fine to her. 

 

“It’s peaceful without everyone,” Draco said suddenly. “I wish it was like this more often.” 

 

She laughed softly. “You don’t miss your _housemates?_ ” The emphasis she put on the last word made him roll his eyes but she swore she saw him smile. 

 

“No, I don’t,” he said. 

 

Hermione found this surprising. He didn’t miss the people who were more or less his friends? Not even a little bit? They were near the Quidditch Pitch now and Draco had fallen silent again.  _ Maybe he needs this,  _ she told herself.  _ Maybe he needs this quiet time and just doesn’t want to be alone.  _

 

The fact that Draco had asked her to accompany him in a long walk of comfortable silence made her stomach flutter and warm, fuzzy sensation spread throughout her, despite the downright freezing temperature. 

 

As they were making their way around the Pitch, Hermione stepped on a rock and momentarily lost her balance. She fell sideways towards Draco, her side bumping into his as his arms reached around her to steady her fall. 

 

“Careful, Granger,” he teased. 

 

“Hush,” she said, feeling her cheeks burn again. “Thanks,” she mumbled, taking note to his hands gripping her sides. 

 

He looked down at the sight and quickly shoved his hands in his pockets. “Don’t mention it.” 

 

* * *

 

The rest of their walk was spent talking about the severity of their school work this year, their least favorite Professors, their favorite breakfast foods… They didn’t seem to run out of things to talk about. 

 

“Umbridge was horrible,” Hermione said with a shudder, remembering the toad-like woman. 

 

“She was,” he agreed and then suddenly stopped, grabbing her elbow. “Hey,” he said. He let go of her elbow and stuffed his hand back in his pocket. “I’m uh… About last… With Umbridge and the…” 

 

Hermione shook her head. “Don’t...don’t worry about it,” she said softly, knowing full and well that he was referring to his aid in catching Dumbledore’s Army last year. “Besides, I got rid of that awful woman, didn’t I?” 

 

They continued walking again, trudging up the hill towards the castle. “How did you do that, by the way?” 

 

She let out a small chuckle, recalling how easy it had been to trick Umbridge into following her into the forest. “Centaurs dragged her away. That was all her though; she was the one to insult them.” 

 

Draco laughed, the same care-free laugh she had yesterday. She smiled and found herself laughing with him. Hermione felt something wet hit her cheek and when she looked down at her gloved hands, she saw little specks of snow. 

 

“Oh!” she gasped. “It’s snowing.” 

 

He looked up at the sky and then down at the ground. Sure enough, little white dots were scattered amongst the dying grass. 

 

“Let’s head back to the castle, I hate the snow,” he mumbled. 

 

Hermione didn’t argue, even though she quite liked the snow. “Hey, want to hear how I got rid of Rita Skeeter?” 

 

He let out another laugh, one that echoed across the grounds. “Go on then.” 

 

* * *

 

Hermione and Draco worked through the afternoon, hunkering down in the library. When it was almost time for dinner, they packed up their things and headed to the Great Hall. Dinner was quiet and uneventful as it had been the past two nights, but Hermione and Draco were careful not to talk too much as Professor McGonagall seemed to glance over at them every so often. 

After dinner, Draco told her he was going to head back to the common room for the night. Hermione nodded, hiding her disappointment. It wasn’t as if there was much more they could do, but she was hoping to remain in his company. He was just a few feet away when he stopped and turned around. 

 

“Hey,” he called. Hermione looked up. “Thanks for taking a walk with me today.” 

 

Hermione nodded. “Don’t mention it,” she repeated his words from earlier. 

 

With that, he disappeared out of sight. 

 

* * *

 

As she and Draco had gone to dinner quite late, it was just past seven thirty when he left her in the Entrance Hall. She only had half an hour until she needed to report to Professor McGonagall’s office, but it seemed like a lifetime away. She had no other friends staying at Hogwarts, and now that Draco had retired for the night, she was alone. Again. 

 

Seeing no point in returning to the common room, she decided to take her time walking up to Professor McGonagall’s office. Normally the decorative of halls of Hogwarts provided a sense of comfort; of home. The many glowing Christmas trees reminding her of her own, that always sat in the corner of their living room from late November, well into January. But the shining tinsel and mistletoe, and the singing suits of armor did nothing but bring back that empty feeling in her chest. 

 

She let her feet shuffle down the empty corridors and her fingers skim the stone walls until she reached the Professor’s office. Hermione checked her watch and saw that it was two minutes to eight. Hermione knocked on the door and waited until Professor McGonagall opened it up to let her in. 

 

“Good evening, Professor,” she said as she walked past McGonagall. 

 

“Miss Granger,” she replied sternly. 

 

Professor McGonagall gestured for her to sit and Hermione complied. Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, straightened what little items she had on it, leaned forward and laced her hands together.

 

“I’m going to cut straight to the point, because you’re a bright girl and there’s no point in beating around the bush with this,” the older witch said, staring straight into Hermione’s eyes. There was a slight pause before Professor McGonagall sighed and her expression softened slightly. “You are, of course, capable of making your own decisions. However, I must warn you that it is quite a risk to be around Mister Malfoy.”

 

“Sorry?” Hermione said, not wanting to believe she had heard her Professor correctly. 

 

“There is something going on with Mister Malfoy this year, and it does not seem harmless. And given your--” she stopped herself quickly. “Given the differences between the two of you, being in his company is not a wise choice.” 

 

Hermione felt the neglected anger buried inside of her rising to the surface, bubbling and igniting her bones.  _ McGonagall is the same as Harry,  _ she thought bitterly.  _ Believing the worst in him. Not even thinking about helping.  _

 

Despite the shaking of her body, Hermione kept her cool and kept her face as hard as McGonagall’s had been moments ago. “As you said Professor, I’m capable of making my own decisions,” she said coolly. 

 

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to retort, but bit her tongue as Hermione stood from her chair. She was not going to sit there and be patronized as though she didn’t have her own suspicions; as though she hadn’t been trying to get Draco to open up about what was happening. 

 

“Thank you for your concern,” Hermione said after a moment; by no means did she want to come off as disrespectful. Not to McGonagall at least. She was about to turn and walk away when a thought popped into her head; it might a stretch considering the conversation they had just had. “Professor,” she said hesitantly. 

 

“Yes, Miss Granger?” 

 

Hermione bit her lip, thinking of how to best phrase her question. “I’ve noticed that Draco doesn’t seem to have any winter attire. And well, I know you’re suspicious of him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve to be warm outside of the castle.” 

 

Professor McGonagall paused, eyeing Hermione with suspicion and concern. “You have a valid point,” she said tersely. 

 

Hermione ignored this and continued, the words rushing out of her mouth. “I was thinking...if I paid for it, could you order something from Hogsmeade?” 

 

The Professor paused for a moment, deep in thought. After a moment, she sighed and nodded, “I suppose that’s possible.” 

 

She nodded. “Thank you, Professor. A jacket, a hat and a pair of gloves, please. I’m sure solid black or gray will do. I will bring the galleons to you later on tonight.” 

 

Professor McGonagall nodded. “Miss Granger,” she said abruptly as Hermione made to leave. “Please be careful.” 

 

Hermione nodded once before hiking her bag up on her shoulder and striding out of McGonagall’s office. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione glanced at the clock on her bedside table and sighed heavily when she saw it was almost one in the morning. She’d been trying to fall asleep for hours now, but her mind was wide awake. The conversation she’d had with McGonagall had irked her. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Now she  _ really _ had no one she could talk to about this -- no one would listen to her. Honestly, it hurt that Professor McGonagall wasn’t concerned in the slightest bit. She had thought of all people, she could have trusted her favorite teacher. 

 

Thoroughly frustrated now, Hermione threw back the covers and hopped out of bed. She needed to clear her head. She needed to be in the fresh air. 

 

She slipped on her trainers, grabbed the blanket from her bed, and her wand, and headed down the stairs to the common room. Before she slipped out of the portrait hole, she cast a concealment charm on herself. 

 

It was far too cold to go all the way out to the Black Lake, and at this time of night, Hermione did not want to be on the grounds alone. The Astronomy Tower would have to do. At least she could still be outside. 

 

Hermione let herself become lost in her thoughts as she walked through the halls of Hogwarts, invisible to anyone who may have be wandering about. As she was walking along the seventh corridor, she heard two people speaking in quiet, but urgent voices. Hermione slowed her pace and held her breath. Just because she was invisible didn’t mean she couldn’t be heard. 

 

A door to the classroom the voices were coming from stood slightly ajar so Hermione hid behind it and leaned in to try and hear better.

 

“I’m telling you Albus, the suspicions about the boy should be looked into! Something’s not right,” Professor McGonagall said earnestly. 

 

“Minerva, I can assure you that all suspicions already have my attention,” the Headmaster said reassuringly. “Should I feel that Mister Malfoy is a serious threat to the students of Hogwarts, I shall take appropriate action immediately.” 

 

There was a pause. Complete silence. Hermione’s heart was pounding on her chest now; so loudly that she worried Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore might hear it. 

 

“So you don’t believe Draco Malfoy is up to no good?” Minerva asked tersely. 

 

“Not at this time, Minerva,” Dumbledore said softly. 

 

Then there were footsteps, but Hermione didn’t have any time to move. She was stuck. She heard the swish of a cloak and when she turned her head to the right, she saw the figure of Professor Dumbledore. He was looking in her direction with a curious smile on his lips, and that familiar twinkle in his eye. 

 

He was walked away, as though nothing had happened. A second set of footsteps grew closer and the door was swung shut, and Hermione watched as Professor McGonagall left in the same direction Professor Dumbledore had gone. 

 

She waited until both Professors were out of sight before bolting from her spot. As she hurried to the tower, Dumbledore’s words kept replaying in her mind. 

 

_ Not at this time, Minerva.  _

 

* * *

 

 

Her thoughts had turned into a hurricane by the time she reached the Astronomy Tower; her chest felt tight and there were tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She was tired of feeling tired. And stressed. And frustrated. She was tired of feeling angry and wanting to cry. She just wanted everything to go back to normal... Well, as normal as things could be with The Chosen One as her best friend. 

 

She pushed open the heavy door leading to the tower and climbed up the stairs one at a time. When she nearly reached the top, she thought she heard whispers and...crying? Her curiosity peaked and she took the steps two at a time and gasped quietly when she got to the top of the stairs and saw Draco sitting with his back against the wall and his head in his hands. 

 

“It’s never going to work,” she heard him mutter to himself. “It’s not going to work...I can’t do it. I can’t.” 

 

“Draco?” she called out as she approached him slowly. 

 

The blonde lifted his head quickly and the look on his face nearly broke her heart right then and there. There were tears stains glistening on his sharp cheekbones in the moonlight. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and his expression looked pained. His hands lifted quickly to wipe at his face and he turned away from her.

 

Hermione sat down next to him, pulling her knees to her chest. There was just mere inches between them; she could feel the heat of his of his body radiating against her. 

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly, looking down at her lap. 

 

It was freezing outside; even with her blanket around her knees. The sky was clear and twinkling with stars above them, not a cloud in sight. 

 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. 

 

Hermione nodded, her lips pressed together tightly and inhaled sharply. “If you ever want to...I’ll listen.” 

 

Draco wiped his cheeks and eyes again, still not looking at her. “Thanks,” he murmured. 

 

“I can leave if you want,” she offered. “If you wanted to be alone…”

 

“No,” he said sharply. “I mean,” he said quickly, “It doesn’t matter.” 

 

She nodded again, slowly raising one arm, then rested her hand on his arm. He flinched but didn’t move away. When he didn’t tell her to get off, she gave his arm a light squeeze before letting her hand fall limp in her lap. They sat in silence for what felt like several hours to Hermione. Draco would sniffle occasionally and look up at the sky, as if all the answers he needed would be written amongst the stars. 

 

“Tell me more about the constellations,” she broke the silence. “I want to learn about them.” 

 

Draco scoffed. “Isn’t that what Astronomy class is for?” 

 

“Mmm,” she mused. “I prefer listening to you talk about them.” 

 

She felt his body shiver as he drew his legs as close as possible to his chest. 

 

“What about the constellation you’re named after?” she spoke again, softer and gentler this time. 

 

He seemed to perk up a bit at this, though his expression still looked hopeless. “Well, there is this one…” he said slowly, staring up at the black velvet sky again.  Hermione looked up too, watching the stars twinkle high above them. “According to Greco-Roman legend, Draco was defeated by a goddess named Minerva and tossed into the air upon his defeat.” 

 

Hermione’s eyes grew wide. The conversation she had overheard not long ago was replaying in her head.  _ These suspicions should be looked into.  _

 

“The dragon, Draco,” he continued, oblivious to her internal freak out. “Was one of the Gigantes. They battled the Olympic Gods for ten years.” Hermione shook her head, forcing herself to focus. She took the blanket and threw it around his legs too. He looked at her in confusion but he seemed grateful for the extra warmth as he tucked the blanket into his lap. “When Minerva threw the dragon,” he said, staring up at the sky again. “it twisted in on itself and froze at the North Celestial Pole.” 

 

“That’s really interesting,” Hermione breathed. She wished there was more she could say, but she was distracted. She couldn’t find it amazing or interesting that this ancient legend sounded awfully familiar. If anything, it alarmed her, but warning Draco seemed risky, because if he was innocent, it would only infuriate him. And if... _ if  _ there was something going on with him, what if knowing this only pushed him away? 

 

Draco had discretely shuffled closer so that their sides were touching now. He had no idea he was making this all the more difficult for her; she was completely torn on what to do,  _ if  _ she should even do anything at all. 

 

“It doesn’t even feel like Christmas Eve,” Draco spat, a disgusted look on his face. 

 

Hermione blinked rapidly, and then it dawned on her. It was Christmas Eve, wasn’t it? 

 

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed wholeheartedly, her voice cracking slightly. 

 

“Granger, are you--”

 

“Tell me more about constellations,” she said, cutting him off. 

 

Draco hesitated for a moment before saying, “Get comfortable, Granger.” 

 

* * *

 

Hermione hid in her dorm on Tuesday morning. Not only did she not want to accept that today was Christmas Eve, but she had no idea what to do about Draco, and being around him only clouded her head. 

 

The previous night, they had sat up on the Astronomy Tower looking at the stars as he told her of legends and myths until nearly five in the morning. There had been a moment, when they had decided to go back inside, where they had been standing only inches away. She could see the calmness in his features, the gratefulness in his eyes, and she had  _ thought  _ that maybe something would happen when he had tried to formulate his thoughts into words before saying goodnight, or when he had reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

 

But she’d been wrong. Which was  _ fine,  _ really it was. 

 

It was around eleven in the morning that she had finally gotten out of bed, only to remain in her pajamas and plop down on the one of the couches in the common room with  _ Hogwarts, A History  _ in hand _.  _

 

At almost three o’clock that afternoon, the door to the common room swung open and in walked Professor McGonagall. “Good afternoon, Miss Granger,” the Professor greeted, striding over to where Hermione sat on the couch curled up with her book. 

 

“Oh!” Hermione said, marking her page in her book and setting it down beside her. “I wasn’t expecting you…” 

 

Hermione noticed Professor McGonagall was carrying a package. She immediately jumped up and straightened her rumpled pajamas. “Is that--” she began eagerly. 

 

“Yes, it is,” Professor McGonagall nodded. “I would have brought it to you sooner if it weren’t for the tightened security.”

 

She took the package from her Professor and ran her hands over the box. “Thank you, Professor. Really.” 

 

Professor McGonagall nodded once and dismissed herself from the Gryffindor common room. 

 

* * *

 

The coat, hat and gloves were all a deep charcoal. The coat wasn’t anything fancy; a button-up with two pockets and a collar that would surely cover his neck. It wasn’t much, but it was something. She had wrapped the clothes in wrapping paper and sat them on a table in the common room, ready to give to Draco the next day, before heading down to dinner. 

 

She expected Draco to be there and for him to question her about her whereabouts, but when she arrived, she didn’t see the familiar head of blonde hair. She sat down near two Ravenclaws, and began piling food on her plate. 

 

The other students chatted amongst one another while Hermione picked at her food. She could feel Professor McGonagall’s eyes on her but made it a point not to look at the Professor. She didn’t want to see her looks of disapproval or concern. 

 

“Long time, no see,” said a familiar voice behind her. 

 

Hermione whipped her head around to see Draco standing over her, hands shoved into his pockets. He walked around the table and sat down across from her. 

 

“I wasn’t feeling well today,” she said as he piled food onto his plate. 

 

“And clearly you’re not feeling much better,” he said, gesturing to her plate of food that had hardly been touched. 

 

Hermione shrugged and twirled her fork absent-mindedly. She wasn’t in a talkative mood at the moment. Draco seemed to understand this as he gave part of The Daily Prophet for her to read before focusing on his portion of the paper. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione sat on the floor of the Astronomy Tower on Wednesday morning, the wrapped package sitting next to her. She checked her watch and saw that it was almost eight. Draco would be there at any moment. 

 

After dinner the night before, they had went to the library to knock out more of his missed work. It was on their way out that she had asked him to meet her in the Tower the next day. He didn’t ask why, just said he would be there and had taken off towards the dungeons. 

 

She heard the sound of a door opening, then shutting, and a minute later, Draco was visible at the top of the stairs, looking exhausted. She smiled at him as he walked over.  _ How many white button down shirts did he own exactly? _

 

His eyes widened when he registered what was sitting next to her. He froze in his tracks, pointing a finger at the package. “What is that?” he asked. 

 

Hermione stood up, dusted off her pants and grabbed the package. “Merry Christmas, Draco,” she said, holding the package out for him to take. 

 

“I don’t want it,” he said immediately, backing away. 

 

“Oh stop,” she said, stepping closer. “Will you at least see what it is?” 

 

“I didn’t get--I didn’t think you would…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his hand. 

 

Hermione waved one hand flippantly and rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t expecting anything. Will you please just open it? I did a pretty impressive wrap job on it…” she pleaded with a small smile. 

Draco laughed softly at that, and surely enough, took the present from her. He examined the wrapping carefully and Hermione couldn’t suppress the giggle that escaped her lips. 

 

“I have to hand it to you, Granger,” he said with a smirk. “This is an impressive wrap job.” 

 

“Thanks,” she said cheerfully. 

 

But he wasn’t opening it, he just kept staring at it, his lips pressed tightly together and his fingers turning white from his tight grip. “Granger, I really don’t…” 

 

“It’s fine,” said Hermione, feeling slightly hurt now. “Just...keep it and if you decide to open it…” 

 

Draco nodded. “It’s not that I’m not...Thank you,” he said with a heavy sigh. 

 

“Don’t mention it,” she said as she sat down again. Draco sat down beside her, his body pressing against hers again and they stayed silent for what felt like hours. 

 

“I miss my mum’s chocolate chip cookies. And my dad’s hot chocolate,” she whispered. “We’d spend all day baking cookies. Dad would make us hot chocolate at night.” Draco didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, feeling her cheeks redden. “I didn’t mean to--” 

 

“Your Christmases sound nice,” he said. 

 

Hermione nodded. They were nice, but she didn’t want to dwell on it anymore. She’d been getting lost in her thoughts too much lately. “I don’t know about you but I fancy some breakfast,” she said suddenly, standing up. 

 

Draco followed suit and started going on and on about her wrapping job, sending her into a fit of laughter the whole way down to the Great Hall. 

 

* * *

 

After breakfast that morning, Draco excused himself for a few hours. She’d gone to the library to read at her favorite table -- the one right by an enormous window and secluded by bookcases. Draco had shown up at around four, with his school bag slung over his shoulder. He’d worked on his homework while Hermione read the extra reading Professor McGonagall had given her. It was around eight thirty that Draco suggested they get a snack. She didn’t really want to go to the Great Hall, so suggested they go to the kitchens even though she didn’t always approve of going down there. But it  _ had _ been a long day and her eyes were starting to hurt from the dim lighting. 

 

They chatted about homework on the way down, and how Hermione had come to learn about where the kitchens were located, and how to get in, careful to speak only in whispers and to keep their footsteps light. When they arrived, Hermione tickled the pear on the portrait, and it swung open. They climbed through the hole before they were greeted by hundreds of house elves. Hermione greeted a few of them, while Draco held up his hand to a small group holding up trays of sweets and baked goods. 

 

She saw Draco bend down and whisper in one of the elves’ ears. Hermione cocked her head. The house elf came over and extended her hand. “My name is Lotty, miss. Mister Malfoy says you want your mum’s chocolate chip cookies,” the elf squeaked. 

 

Hermione’s jaw dropped slightly as she looked at Draco. He was sitting by the fireplace now, sipping a cup of tea that had been given to him, and smirking smugly at her. She shook her head and resisted the urge to smile. “Er, well yes, but if it’s too much trouble--” 

 

“Please miss! Come with us!” said Lotty, her bulging eyes boring into Hermione’s. 

 

Hermione smiled down at the elf and followed her to their prep-station. She instructed Lotty on what ingredients were needed and how to make the cookies, and had offered to help but Lotty refused it, insisting she didn’t need it. While the batch of cookies were baking, Dobby appeared, persistent on making her dad’s hot chocolate. She couldn’t stop smiling now; her head gone fuzzy and her insides were tingling.  _ How many people see this side of him?  _ she wondered to herself when she looked over to Draco before she fixed two cups of hot chocolate. 

 

When the batch of cookies were done, Dobby and Lotty escorted her to the fire where Draco was waiting. They drew up a table and sat down the tray of cookies and hot chocolate. Hermione handed a mug to Draco and offered him a cookie. To her surprise, he took one. She took one for herself and bit into it. 

 

“ _ Mmm _ ,” she hummed, her eyes fluttering shut momentarily. “I haven’t had my mum’s cookies in years.” 

 

Draco smiled, already picking up a second cookie. Hermione smiled appreciatively and let out a small giggle. “Good aren’t they?” 

 

He hummed in agreement. 

 

“Thank you for this, Draco,” she said quietly as they watched the roaring fire. 

 

Draco shrugged and smiled at her. “Don’t mention it.” He paused, “Besides, I opened your present earlier…” 

 

Hermione perked up at this. “You did?” 

 

His smile grew a bit wider and she admired the way the fire illuminated his sharp features. “Thank you, Granger.” 

 

“We could put you new coat to good use tomorrow morning?” she suggested. “A walk around the grounds?” 

 

“Alright,” he said, grabbing another cookie. 

 

Hermione turned her gaze back the fire with full knowledge that she was grinning like an idiot, but she didn’t care. She had a plate of her mum’s cookies, a cup of her dad’s hot chocolate and well, Draco was pretty great company. This Christmas wasn’t so bad after all. 


	11. Hiding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by oeuvre24! Remember that she is uploading on ff.net under the same username so be sure to check it out! 
> 
> Mentioned works: Sheep in Fog by Sylvia Plath

Morning came much too soon for Hermione’s liking. She’d woken up after a solid eight hours of sleep, but still felt extremely tired and lay in bed for an extra half an hour. With no classes to go to and no friends to get up and talk to in the Common Room before breakfast, there wasn’t much to do and nothing to give her the desire to hurry out of bed. If it weren’t for Draco staying at Hogwarts over the holidays too, she may have asked Professor Dumbledore if she could travel to the Burrow and stay there until school started again.

 

She pushed back the curtains of her bed and looked at the clock that sat on the table under the window which also held a jug of water and glasses for anyone who needed it. There was only ten minutes until breakfast would be served in the Great Hall, so she got out of bed with a groan and got ready for the day. She and Draco were meant to be going for a walk that morning, but she would only go with him after she had something in her stomach — the night before they had skipped the Christmas feast in the Hall and only had cookies and hot chocolate, which wasn’t the most filling.

 

She was one of the first few students at breakfast when she arrived in the Great Hall. She took a seat near the end of the table and smiled at the Professors who greeted her with their own smiles. She piled food generously on her plate and wondered where Draco was, as he was normally around early in the mornings. She was halfway through her plate when he came to sit down opposite to her. “Morning,” she said after she’d swallowed her mouthful of eggs, and gave him a smile.

 

Draco gave her a small nod and then put a couple of slices of toast on his plate and topped them with scrambled eggs and tomato sauce. “Morning,” he said back to her and began to eat.

 

“How did you sleep?” Hermione asked him to make conversation.

 

He shrugged. “Alright, I guess,” he said and began to eat so she didn’t push him to talk anymore.

 

She continued to eat her own breakfast and was almost finished when a few owls flew into the hall. A tawny owl landed on the table a few feet from her with The Daily Prophet tied to its leg, so she reached over and took it off and the owl flew away. She hadn’t noticed while she opened the paper, that a darker and bigger owl had landed next to Draco and he had taken the letter from where it was attached to its leg. When she finally did notice, she looked over to see him staring down at the parchment, his face pale and eyes slightly widened.

 

“Is everything okay?” She asked in concern. 

 

Draco kept his eyes on the parchment “I can’t walk around this morning,” he said abruptly and stood up from the table.

 

“What happened?” Hermione asked him, standing up too.

 

“Nothing,” Draco snapped. “I need to go,” he said and without sparing her another glance, he walked rather quickly out of the Great Hall. Hermione turned around and watched him leave the hall and she was tempted to follow him. The way he left reminded her of how he had stormed from the classroom the night of Slughorn’s party when she had accidentally seen a confrontation between him and Professor Snape.

 

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek in worry and turned around to sit back in her seat, but her appetite was lost. She stared down at her almost-finished plate and didn’t notice someone walk to her side and stop. “Miss Granger,” the voice of Professor Dumbledore spoke and Hermione startled and looked up at him.

 

“Yes, sir?” She asked quickly, wondering if she was now getting in trouble for being out of bed past curfew a few nights previous when she had gone to the Astronomy Tower under a concealment charm and accidentally stumbled upon Dumbledore and McGonagall talking about Draco.

 

“Settle, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore smiled at her. “I would like to ask you some questions, but speaking here isn’t the right environment. If you could come to my office after lunch, that would be wonderful.” He lowered his voice then, “My password is ‘sugar quills’. If you find the gargoyle statue on the third floor and tell him, he’d be happy to let you in,” he smiled and walked away without waiting for Hermione’s answer.

 

She felt like putting her head in her hands and screaming. She knew she would be in a lot of trouble for her after-hours stunt, purposely casting a charm to make sure she wouldn’t be spotted, but to no avail; and after her involvement in a tussle with Nott, Zabini and Parkinson weeks ago, she was sure her Prefect badge would be taken. There was no way a Prefect should be allowed to get away with the things she’d done. She suddenly wished there was someone she could speak to about the situation, someone to console her that everything would be alright and that she would be fine.

 

Hermione deserted her plate of breakfast at the table and stood up abruptly and went up the countless stairs to get back to the Gryffindor Common Room. She walked past the three students lounging in the chairs, talking, and headed up to her dormitory and opened her book bag, pulling out a piece of parchment and her quill and ink. She settled on her bed, and started to write a letter to her parents. It was only when she started to write about how lonely she felt and wished she could be on holiday with them, that she realised that they were under the impression she was at the Burrow for Christmas. In anger she screwed the parchment up and threw it to the bottom of her bed and stared at it until her eyes watered from not blinking.

 

She instead leaned off of her bed to take some homework from her bag. She didn’t want to go to the library and sit by herself again when being there would surely make her think of the times her and Draco worked together there. Although she was still confused as to where he had gone and wanted to know what he was doing, she forced herself to concentrate on her homework and started to do her reading for Charms.

 

Homework only occupied her thinking for so long before she was back to being concerned over Draco’s whereabouts and her upcoming meeting with Dumbledore. The thought of losing her Prefect badge made her palms sweat, and when she looked at the clock she found out lunch would be served soon. Her stomach churned with nerves and she got off her bed to head to the Great Hall to try and have some bit of food before her meeting.

 

She took a sandwich to eat and as she sat, thought about the reason Dumbledore wanted to talk to her. “ _ I would like to ask you some questions.”  _ The more she thought about his words, the more she wondered and debated if he really was going to punish her for her rule-breaking. Maybe he truly did want to ask her questions. Suddenly, it dawned on her and she almost smacked herself in the forehead for not thinking of it sooner.  _ Harry! _ She thought.  _ He’ll want to ask questions about how Harry is doing and how he’s coping! _ She couldn’t believe she hadn’t realised the reason for the Headmaster wanting to talk to her immediately.

 

It was a sobering thought when she understood exactly why she hadn’t thought of that reason, though.  _ You haven’t been thinking of Harry’s wellbeing _ , she thought.  _ You’ve been too busy harbouring anger and annoyance towards him, not being concerned over how he’s feeling _ . While she had been infuriated over him beating her at Potions, and had become increasingly involved with Draco and what was obviously troubling in, she had failed to remember that her best friend was under the constant threat of Voldemort the more the year wore on. She was overcome with a rush of guilt and hated that she had been so inconsiderate of her friend because he was getting more praise than she in a class.

 

Her guilt made her get up from the table once she had eaten, and she began to make her way to Dumbledore’s office, figuring he would be there as he hadn’t been present at the staff dining table. She made her way up the Grand Staircase and walked down the corridor to get to the staircases that would lead her to the third floor. She was absorbed in her own thoughts as she walked along and at the last moment, realised someone was walking towards her. It was the sound of footsteps that made her lift her head from where she was staring at the ground as she walked, and what she saw made her run forward.

 

Draco was walking the way she had just come, not looking up from the ground, clutching his hands to his chest. The sight of his hands had been the reason she had run towards him so quickly. His palms were sliced again, the backs of his palms scratched with blood trickling across his pale skin. The front of his shirt, where he was holding his hands to his chest, was stained with blood that had come from his hands. “Draco,” she breathed as she got to him, her heart racing in her chest. “What happened? What did this to you?  _ Who _ did this to you?” She tried to hold his forearms to get a better look of his hands but he stepped back quickly.

 

“Don’t,” he snapped and dropped his hands to his sides and Hermione saw the pain reflected in his face at the movement.

 

“Draco,” she said sharply. “Your hands are torn up. That’s the  _ second _ time I’ve seen you like this. What is happening?” She demanded to know.

 

“Stay out of it,” he hissed, glaring at her so sharply that her stomach fell. “Don’t think you have any right to know.”

 

Her expression fell and he looked down at his hands, at his fingers almost curled into his palms, only stopped by the gashes on his skin. “You—” She began to speak but her voice was too quiet and she cleared her throat, “You’re going to the infirmary?”

 

She saw his expression soften for a moment, but he built his wall back up again just as quickly. “Yes,” he said tersely. Without another word, he walked past her and their shoulders brushed. She couldn’t bring it to herself to turn around and watch him walk away. Why couldn’t he trust her enough to let her know what was hurting him? Not just mentally as she had first thought, seeing how erratically his moods could change, but physically, seeing his injured hands and how often he showed up looking pale and sickly.

 

It took her a minute or so to compose herself enough to keep moving. She stood straight with her shoulders back and walked down the corridor to get to the stairs. When she reached the staircase, with every step up, her mind chanted with every alternate step.

 

_ He’ll be fine. _

 

_ He’s innocent. _

 

_ He’s not doing anything wrong… _

 

* * *

 

 

“Please take a seat, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore invited Hermione into his office, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk.

 

Despite the flurry of nerves and anticipation she felt over what Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak to her about, Hermione couldn’t help but look around the room in complete awe. She had never been in the Headmaster’s office before, and although Harry had told her all about it, his words didn’t pay homage to the wondrous items scattered on every surface, or how…how  _ magical  _ the whole room looked and felt.

 

“It is a rather impressive room, I do admit,” Dumbledore spoke after a few moments when Hermione had not sat down. He smiled at her when she turned to him with a blush on her cheeks.

 

“Sorry, Headmaster. Everything is just so…” She trailed off and looked around the room once more before sitting at the chair he had asked her too. The chair was huge and she felt dwarfed in it as she sat, staring at Dumbledore’s desk a few feet in front.

 

The wizard walked to his own seat and rest his clasped hands on the surface of his desk as he looked at her. “I understand that you are probably confused as to why I asked you to come and visit me,” he spoke.

 

Hermione nodded once. “I was a bit worried,” she admitted. “But now I realise that you want to know how Harry is doing, and—” She started to talk but was interrupted.

 

“I don’t need to know how young Harry is,” Dumbledore spoke softly.

 

“Oh…” Hermione’s eyes widened slightly and her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she realised that her initial suspicions were correct of why she had been summoned to see the Headmaster… She was going to lose her badge. “Professor, I really am sorry for being out of bed after curfew. I know I shouldn’t have done it,” she rushed out, “I know it was entirely irresponsible, especially having my position of Prefect. If any of the other students found out it wouldn’t have been a good precedent to set,” she apologised, not wanting to look him in the eyes for fear of seeing his disappointment.

 

There was a few moments of tense silence between the two of them before Dumbledore spoke once more. “I haven’t called you here to punish you.”

 

Hermione looked up from her lap where her hands rest, her fingers curling tightly into her palms to stop her shaking. “W-What?” She stuttered. “But… You saw me that night.”

 

Dumbledore smiled and shrugged a shoulder slightly. “I may have, I may not have. I cannot punish a student for something I am not certain I truly saw,” he said with a knowing look in his eyes and relief swept through Hermione’s body.

 

Her fingers uncurled and she felt her muscles loosen as she relaxed. “But, Professor…” She said. “Why have you called me here if we’re not talking about Harry or me being out of bed?”

 

“I would like to talk to you about a student at our school,” the Headmaster said. “A student in your year level, and a student I believe you have been spending increasing amounts of time with…”

 

She was too scared to look away from his stare, but she held her ground. She would not be ashamed or punished for spending time with Draco; she would _ not  _ allow another Professor to try and belittle her for who she was friendly with. “I apologise, Professor, but I don’t see a problem with me spending time with Dr— Malfoy,” she said with more confidence than she truly felt.

 

Dumbledore smiled again before he spoke, making her wonder just what he wanted to tell her about. “I don’t want an apology for it,” he told her. “I, for one, am very impressed that you and Mister Malfoy have overcome your differences to be around each other and have, as I’ve seen it, quite an amicable relationship.”

 

Hermione fumbled for words. “We… Well, I mean…” She tried to form a sentence. She sighed and then looked Dumbledore in the eye. “We study together. That’s the majority of what our time spent together is doing, but… I know that you know about the accusations against him, but I  _ know _ that he isn’t doing any of the horrible things he’s being accused of doing. Draco’s innocent, Professor Dumbledore.”

 

“And I believe so too,” Dumbledore agreed. “However, you must remember the environment that Mister Malfoy has grown up in and continues to live in when he returns home.”

 

“But he’s still here over the holidays,” Hermione furrowed her brows. “He doesn’t want to go back home, and his father is in prison. I know his mother isn’t the kindest of people, and I’ve been on the receiving end of her twisted views, but I don’t think she has the drive to push Draco to do something bad.”  _ Something like his father would make him do _ , she added in her head.

 

“Yes, he has stayed over Christmas; something I wasn’t expecting if I am to be honest,” Professor Dumbledore nodded. “But that does not diverge from the fact that he has been living in a very unstable home since his father has been imprisoned. Not a single one of us knows what is going on between the walls of his family’s manor, and nor will we be able to find out on our own terms.”

 

Hermione ran over his words in her head, thinking of what Dumbledore was trying to imply. He was trying to imply that while Draco was innocent at the moment, he had the potential to act just like his father. “Professor…” Hermione said. “What does this all have to do with me?” She asked.

 

“A wise question,” Dumbledore said and stood up from his chair to walk to the front of his desk, standing a few feet in front of her. “Stay as you are with Mister Malfoy,” he said. “I think you know as well as I what good it is for him to be in your presence; to show that the ideals and beliefs he has been taught ever since he learned the meaning of words, are untrue and wrong.”

 

“I think he’s understanding that more and more,” Hermione admitted. “Before this year, he would throw insults and slurs at me all the time and wouldn’t even  _ touch  _ something that I may have touched.” Her body felt cold as she remembered the callous way that Draco had treated her in the past, but knowing he no longer acted that way was enough to understand that he had a chance. A chance to flip the twisted views he’d been shown on their head, so that he understood the racist and cruel beliefs of traditional Purebloods in the Wizarding World, were wrong. She knew that he was capable of understanding that.

 

“That is very good,” Dumbledore said and paused, picking up a small brass item on his desk, twisting the screw on the side of it. “Keep up what the both of you have been doing,” he said and put the instrument back on his desk where it rolled around erratically, covering the surface of the desk. If it wasn’t such a serious situation, Hermione would have smiled at the peculiar invention. “Because I do believe that you, Miss Granger,” he stopped to put his hand out to stop the spinner from toppling off the edge of his desk, “Are the key to keeping Draco from falling too far into something he cannot return from.” He tapped his finger on the top of the instrument and it stopped moving in his palm, and he sat it back on his desk.

 

“I’m not going to leave and I’m not going to assume anything about him or what happens at his home,” Hermione said after a longer pause. It was the first time she had admitted out-loud that she wouldn’t be abandoning Draco, and that she believed he was better than people’s suspicions of him.

 

“It pleases me to hear that, Miss Granger. Very much so.”

 

* * *

 

 

Two days had passed by before she saw Draco again. Since her conversation with Dumbledore, Hermione’s mind had been reeling, trying to process everything the wizard told her. She knew that being around Draco was good in the sense that he no longer was disgusted by her due to her blood status, but even with their time spent together increasing, it didn’t stop him from disappearing, or from looking pale and sick. She wanted so desperately to know what was wrong, but the battle in her mind of whether she should ask him or let him work things out himself, was loud and she couldn’t make sense of what would be best for him.

 

She’d seen firsthand what happened when she tried to ask him what was wrong. She’d also seen what happened when Snape — someone Hermione  _ knew _ Draco had admired and actually liked — asked Draco if he needed help. She didn’t know what to do and it hurt her head even trying to consider what was right in that situation.

 

She could ask him over and over what was wrong and if she could help him, and risk him pushing her away so they returned back to what they were before — enemies. Or, she could stand by him and not push him to speak, and continue to be friendly and there for him should he need it.

 

What scared Hermione the most, and what she didn’t want to admit to herself, was just what Draco was hiding from everyone; students and teachers alike. She knew that sixth year was stressful and that their workload was full-on, but everyone else seemed to be tackling it as best as they could. Even she, who worked the hardest out of everyone in their year, didn’t look as tired and sick as Draco did some days. She knew that theory didn’t add up, though, since he was assigned detentions for not doing work. If he was working hard and stressing about his schoolwork, she would have assumed he’d actually be getting his homework in.

 

Her thoughts scared her, because she knew if it wasn’t schoolwork that Draco was stressed about, it was something completely different — something away from Hogwarts entirely. It was something that made him stay in the castle over the holidays instead of returning home, and something he refused to talk about with another living body. It was something that she could see tearing down the confident, cocky, arrogant boy everyone knew, and replacing him with someone nervous, ill, stressed and physically harmed. The picture of his hands cut up, stayed in her mind and she had spent plenty of time trying to figure out what he was hiding that would cause him such harm.

 

It was just before lunch on the second day since she had seen him heading to the infirmary, that the both of them stumbled across each other. She had her book bag slung over her shoulder, laden with several of the Transfiguration books McGonagall had told her she could read for extra work. Hermione had been walking from the common room towards the staircase to go down to the library and maybe see if Draco would appear too. It had been a surprise to her, to see him coming up the staircase onto the seventh floor, and she said his name before he realised she was there.

 

He lifted his head quickly and saw her standing at the top of the steps. “Oh,” he said in surprise and spoke next when he got to the top. “Granger,” he greeted her.

 

“ _ Really _ ?” Hermione narrowed her eyes and controlled her urge to hit him in the stomach. “You go missing for two days and all you have to say for yourself is ‘Granger’?” She questioned him. She stared up at him and noticed the darkened circles under his eyes, and how his cheek bones were starting to look more pronounced than she’d noticed them to be before.

 

“I’ve been really busy,” Draco answered, not backing down from her gaze, though surprisingly, without a harsh tone that she had been expecting. “I’ve been catching up with a lot of school work and some…personal things. I’ve hardly left the common room.”

 

“Yes, I know you’ve hardly left, because I’ve been around almost every inch of this castle and haven’t seen you once. Not even at mealtimes,” she snapped, still angry about his disappearance and snippiness when they had last seen each other. “Have you even been eating?” She asked.

 

“I wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t have shown me where the kitchens are,” he responded with a hint of a smirk that was a reminder of the Draco Malfoy she thought she knew.

 

Hermione kept her hard gaze on him, not backing down even though he didn’t look in the greatest shape. “So you didn’t think you could have told me that when you got that owl and ran off?” She asked him.

 

“I don’t like talking about my personal matters,” Draco said with a finality in his voice that left little room for argument. How was she meant to snap at him when he clearly didn’t want to talk about the issues that had caused his disappearance. The more she thought about it, the more she started to believe him. Really, he didn’t have the most ideal family life, so it wasn’t hard to believe that there may have been some personal issues that needed sorted out; issues that she didn’t need to know about it.

 

He seemed to realise that she was struggling to come up with a response to him and she saw the corner of his lips twitch upwards.

 

“Well,” she sniffed, with her nose in the air, “Where were you heading? What have you got to do on the seventh floor?”

 

It took him a few seconds of deliberation before he answered. “I was going to the Room of Requirement,” he admitted and she was partially stuck for words.

 

“You— How do you know about that?” She demanded to know.

 

Her question made him scoff and roll his eyes. “Don’t you remember who one of the people was to bust you and your little groups’ hiding place last year?”

 

“Oh,” Hermione’s mouth shut and her cheeks flushed ever so slightly. “Why are you going there?” She asked him.

 

She watched his eyes dart away from hers for a split second before looking back at her. “It’s a good place to relax and finish some of my homework.” It was then that she noticed he also had his book bag slung over his shoulder.

 

“I was going to go to the library or out to the lake,” she told him.

 

“Don’t go to the lake,” he said quickly. “Haven’t you looked outside today?” He asked and she shook her head. “It’s pouring it down. It’s windy as well.”

 

“There goes one of my plans then,” Hermione sighed. “Do you still need help finishing all of your homework?” She asked him, a quiet thought in her mind hoping that he would say yes so they could spend the day together.

 

“Not really,” Draco answered. “I’m getting more up to date than I was before.”

 

“Right…” Hermione nodded, trying not to sound or look too downtrodden.

 

She was about to make an excuse to leave for the library before Draco spoke again. “Why don’t you come too? To the Room of Requirement with me?” He asked and lifted one hand to rub the back of his neck. “It’s quite relaxing.”

 

Hermione paused and stared up at him. It was astounding the way he acted towards her then compared with how he had treated her the day after Christmas; she didn’t know what to expect of his mood swings anymore. “Uh…” She started and then nodded. “Yes, that would be nice, actually. I need to get some reading done anyway.”

 

“For Transfiguration?” He asked and started to walk down the corridor and she followed alongside. When she nodded, he smirked. “So you got extra work then?”

 

“Yes, what’s the problem with that?” She huffed.

 

“Nothing, there’s no problem,” he responded quickly but when she looked up at him she could see that he was smirking.

 

“Don’t be an arse,” she muttered. “I need to have something to do over the holidays otherwise I’m going to go insane. If I have to ask for extra work, then so be it.”

 

“I didn’t say anything,” he continued to smirk, and she grumbled under her breath and continued to walk alongside him.

 

They rounded the corner to get onto the familiar corridor that housed the Room of Requirement. It felt like forever ago since she, Harry, Ron and the rest of Dumbledore’s Army, had been training as much as they could in the room. It brought back some fond memories; of learning and camaraderie. She waited to the side while she watched Draco pace back and forth in front of where the door would appear, and watched his lips move quickly as he asked under his breath for the room to deliver what they would need. As to be expected, a few seconds later, a low rumbling sounded as the door materialised itself onto the wall, and Draco walked forward to open it up. “Coming?” He asked.

 

She nodded and walked forward, going into the room after him. What sight she was greeted with made her smile widely. The room was set up in the exact way that would be most beneficial to what they needed it for — there was no surprise there. On one side of the room was a few large bookcases, filled with various books of different sizes and colours. Near the shelves sat a few armchairs and a longer sofa, surrounding a coffee table; she knew that would be where she’d be going straight away. The other side of the room was occupied with a large round table with soft, comfortable looking chairs around it, and small stacks of parchment sitting on its top, and various bottles of ink with quills sitting next to them. The highlight of the room was the large fireplace which sat magnificently against the back wall, already burning, filling the room with a comforting warmth, and lighting it in just the right manner. She knew that she would definitely be coming back to visit this room; with, or without, Draco.

 

“Well?” Draco asked and she watched him walk over to the table and put down his book bag. “What do you think?”

 

She smiled and put down her own bag. “I think I don’t want to leave here for the rest of the holidays,” she laughed and looked around the whole room once more. “It’s got everything… What were you thinking to make it appear?”

 

He had sat down on the chair at the table then, and was pulling out various books and bits of parchment. “That we need somewhere to work and read peacefully and comfortably,” he answered.

 

She smiled and walked to the bookcase. She let Draco do his own thing as he seemed happy to do so, and she trailed her fingers over the spines of the books on the shelves. Some were large, bounded in leather with their embossed title on the spine, others were smaller, some paperback and hardback; every sort of book she could read were on the shelves in front of her. As much as the unknown stories tempted her, she knew her schoolwork took first priority, so she walked back to the sofa to settle down and get out her Transfiguration reading, taking off her shoes and putting her feet up to relax as she did so.

 

Time passed and she read more and more, having to get out her quill to jot down some key points she found rather interesting. Even though she was still rather surprised and angry over McGonagall’s assumptions of Draco’s intentions, she still wanted to discuss the theories with her Professor, because she would not let a personal issue get in the way of her learning. She was clueless to how long it had been since they entered the room, but she knew it was a significant amount of time due to the number of pages she had read. She only looked up from her book when she felt the couch cushion dip, and she found Draco to be sitting on the other end. Her legs were swung up onto the couch, knees bent with her book resting on her thighs; and now with Draco sitting at the other end, her toes almost touched the side of his leg. “Had enough of homework?” She asked him with a knowing smile.

 

“I think my brain is frying inside my skull,” he responded with a chuckle, and she struggled not to grin. Despite the past two days of his disappearance and the issues he had briefly told her about, he was getting back to being the person she’d come to know over the last two months — someone who had learned to relax, smile and laugh around her.

 

She looked back down at her own book, continuing her reading, blocking out every outside stimulus that could distract her from the important work she was learning about. That was all before Draco rest his arm down and his hand was half draped over her foot. She stiffened and her eyes glued to the same word on the page of her book. She could feel the tips of his fingers barely against the top of her foot and tried to act normal. It wasn’t often that he willingly touched her, let alone did so for longer than a second. She blinked a few times at her book and started the sentence again. A few minutes later, though, she hadn’t managed to get unstuck from the same words, so she closed the book and set it on the floor beside the couch, giving an excuse to her mind that she was simply overwhelmed with Transfiguration and needing a break.

 

Hermione looked up at him, then, and could clearly see how tired he looked. His head was tipped back, resting against the back of the couch, and his eyes were partially shut. She eyed his chest, rising and falling with every deep breath he took and moved her gaze to his neck, his Adam’s apple more visible from the way he was lying. “Have you been sleeping enough?” She asked quietly, so as not to disrupt the peace of the room.

 

She watched him shake his head, and was surprised at his honesty. “Didn’t get much last night,” he murmured.

 

“Why?”

 

She knew the question was ambitious before the word even left her mouth. He cracked one eye open and stared at her then closed it again and relaxed once more. That was all the answer she needed from him.

 

She got up from the sofa and went to the large bookcase again. It took several minutes for her to find something she wanted to read above everything else and it was Ariel by Sylvia Plath, that she plucked from the shelf. She took it back to the sofa, sitting with her legs up on the cushions again, and remarked at the fragility of the book that looked like it had been around for a rather long time, rather than being a newly made book.

 

“What’s that?” Draco asked her and she looked over to him to see him with his eyes open this time, looking at her.

 

“It’s a book of poetry,” Hermione explained and offered the book to him but he shook his head.

 

“Written by?”

 

“Sylvia Plath,” she told him. “She was an amazing writer. I’ve read most of her work; it’s all beautiful,” she said as she looked down at the cover of the book. She gently opened the pages, flipping to a poem at random and just as she began to read, he spoke again.

 

“Read me one.”

 

She took her eyes off the page and looked over at him in confusion. He had rested his head back again with closed eyes, so it allowed her to look at him without the threat of him glaring back if her expression wasn’t to his liking. He simply looked tired and so taut with stress she wished there was a spell that could be used to wipe him of his unease.

 

She cleared her throat softly and looked back down at the page which she would read to him. “This one is called Sheep In Fog,” she told him and heard him make a soft hum, indicating for her to go on. “The hills step off into whiteness. People or stars regard me sadly, I disappoint them. The train leaves a line of breath. O slow horse the colour of rust, hooves, dolorous bells — All morning the morning has been blackening, a flower left out. My bones hold a stillness, the far fields melt my heart. They threaten to let me through to a heaven starless and fatherless, a dark water.”

 

She read the poem softly, pausing at the appropriate times, letting the words seep into both her mind and Draco’s. As she read, the words resounded in her head and she dissected them, looking for the meaning within Plath’s words. She stared at the book for a few moments after reading before looking over to Draco who had his eyes open, looking up at the ceiling. She could tell that he caught onto the deeper meaning of the poem, just as well as she did. The meaning being of loneliness and fear of failure, with the lone horse-rider travelling on a dark path, afraid of disappointing those around them, ending in their death which wouldn’t lead to salvation, but to emptiness.

 

Hermione didn’t speak again and let her eyes go down to the page to read the poem in her mind once more. She felt the loneliness of the rider through the fog and could guess that Draco felt it all the same. After reading for a second time, she looked at him. “Her poems have a lot of meaning within them,” she said softly.

  
  


Draco turned his head and looked at her and she could see a glimmer of sadness behind the tired look he possessed. It was many seconds before he spoke to her, still not taking his eyes off of hers. “Can you read me another one?”

 

And she did.


	12. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me. 
> 
> Mentioned works: Insomniac by Sylvia Plath. 
> 
> Apologies for the longer update; my laptop broke a few days ago and I just got my new one yesterday!

When Hermione woke the next morning, she rolled to face the window to see that it was still pouring down rain. She hugged the blanket tighter to her chest and nuzzled into her pillow, her head still feeling fuzzy and her eyes heavy. Memories of the day before came creeping back; the way Draco’s entire body relaxed as she had read aloud to him, the tired look on his face, and the look he gave her after she had read the first poem. 

 

Hermione laid in bed for a while, her eyes drifting shut before popping open when another crack of thunder tumbled over the castle, and her thoughts were still stuck on Draco. Her initial curiosity had turned to concern and now her concern had turned into wanting to help him; to get him out of whatever it was he was caught up in. She wasn’t by any means stupid or oblivious -- she knew that his torn up hands and books on complex magic and strange disappearances weren’t just  _ nothing  _ and it was obvious that whatever it was he was doing, he by no means was enjoying it. 

 

She glanced at her clock and saw that it was only half past five. There was still quite a while until breakfast. She could read, or work on her extra homework assignments, or wander the castle in hopes of coming across Draco, but the dormitory was chilly and her muscles were a bit sore. All she really fancied at that moment was a hot shower. 

 

She pulled herself from the warmth of her sheets and snatched her towel from on top of her trunk before going to the bathroom to start the shower. She undressed quickly, tested the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot, and hopped in to escape the chill. She stood under the hot water with her eyes closed and her head tilted back. Her muscles slowly relaxed as the warmth soothed them. She took her time massaging her scalp with shampoo and washing her body, standing there for what felt like hours, inhaling the vanilla fumes from her soap and listening to the low rumbles of thunder. For once, her mind was empty and she  _ basked  _ in it. Her mind was always reeling, especially these days. She deserved this moment of peace, didn’t she? 

 

When she saw that her skin was tinted red, she shut off the water and climbed out with the towel wrapped around her. She cursed herself for not bringing her clothes into the bathroom as she raced back to the dormitory to pull out a pair of jeans and a gray sweater along with her bra, socks and panties from her trunk. She dressed quickly, brushed her hair, cast a drying charm and tied into a bun. 

 

It was six thirty by the time she had brushed her teeth, put on her shoes and packed some books into her bag. After deciding she would wander the halls until it was time for breakfast, she climbed out the portrait hole and set off down the corridor towards a set of stairs. When she reached the fourth floor and was heading down the corridor to the next set of stairs, she heard footsteps behind her. They sounded hurried, judging by the quick pace. Gripping her wand just for safe measure, she whipped around to see Draco practically right behind her. She jumped and let out a yelp. 

 

“Merlin, Draco, don’t creep up on people like that!” she scolded, swatting at his chest. 

He backed away, causing her to miss by mere centimeters. She didn’t know if it was just her or if he did look quite panicked? Her gaze drifted down to his hands and when he realized what she was doing, he quickly shoved them in his pockets, but it was too late. She had already seen. Though they weren’t cut up this time, his knuckles were bruised and bleeding. 

 

“Draco,” she began, even though she was at a loss for words at that moment. 

 

“Granger,” he said sharply. “Just don’t. Alright?” 

 

“Let me heal them,” she said. 

 

She was surprised when he didn’t deny her right away. But instead mulled over her offer. “When we get to the Room of Requirement,” he whispered. 

 

Hermione nodded and together, they made their way back up to the seventh floor. 

 

* * *

 

The same Room materialized for them again and Hermione felt a wave of relief wash over her. She  _ loved  _ it. They dropped their bags on the floor by the table and headed over to the couch. Draco plopped down first while Hermione wished the room to provide some dittany and took it off the coffee table when it had appeared. She sat down next to him and studied his hands, which were perched atop his thighs. He was leaning back with his eyes shut, his breathing steady, just as he had sat yesterday. Hesitantly, she picked up the hand closest to her and placed it in her lap. When he didn’t protest, she unstoppered the dittany and dripped some onto his wounded knuckles. She pursed her lips in silent disapproval for his stress managing techniques, because  _ what  _ was punching a solid object going to do? 

 

He cringed as the solution healed his wounds and he snatched his healed hand back and cracked an eye open. “A little warning would have been nice,” he sniffed. 

 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, taking his other hand now and repeating her actions. She sighed when the last of the wounds disappeared, and then let his hand fall into his lap with a dull thud. “There,” she said with finality. “Better?” 

 

Draco examined them fleetingly before letting his eyes drift shut again. “Thanks, Granger.” 

 

Hermione hummed but was too distracted by sunken cheekbones and dark circles under his eyes to listen. “Come on,” she said, an impatient tone to her voice. “Let’s go to breakfast.” 

 

“I’m not hungry,” he replied, his eyes still closed. 

 

She huffed. “Well you still need to eat.” 

 

Draco sighed and shifted in his seat. “What’s it going to take to get you to drop this?” 

 

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and glared down at him, even if he wasn’t looking at her. She couldn’t help but get protective when she saw him in this state. “Going to breakfast,” she answered smugly. 

 

“I hate how clever you are sometimes,” he mumbled as he stood up reluctantly. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled at his form of a compliment. She went to pick up their school bags and handed his to him. They started to leave when Draco stopped in the middle of the room. “I don’t really fancy going to the Great Hall,” he said. 

 

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?” 

 

* * *

 

They returned to the Room of Requirement forty minutes later with platters of food floating in behind them. Hermione lit the fire while Draco wished for plates and goblets and silverware to appear and set the table for the two of them. 

 

“Oh!” she gasped when she turned around to see the table set. “Draco, you didn’t have to do all that.” 

 

He shrugged, taking his seat and gesturing her to join him. As she sat down he said, “I watched our house-elves do it for years.” 

 

Hermione giggled at that and even Draco must have recognized the humor as he cracked a smile. “The Life of a Privileged Pureblood, by Draco Malfoy,” she teased while piling eggs and sausages onto her plate. 

 

His expression grew dark and Hermione fell silent at once. She regretted the words as soon as they had escaped her mouth. She had  _ no idea  _ what Draco’s life was like lately and to just assume…

 

“I’m sorry,” she gushed. “I didn’t--”

 

Draco held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it, Granger.” 

 

Hermione bit her lip. He seemed fine but that didn’t mean he  _ was  _ fine. But she let it go for his sake and returned to pouring some pumpkin juice for herself. 

 

As they ate, she read him snippets from the Prophet and they discussed all the ways the Ministry was utterly failing, and when that got old they talked about how much they weren’t looking forward to the rest of the student body returning later this week. Though it was foolish and childish, Hermione was not looking forward to Potions class with Harry and his book again and she had no desire to watch the aggressive and passionate displays of affection between Ron and Lavender. Draco, gathering from the disgust in his voice, was not excited for his housemates to return either. She was curious about that, but as she had come to learn when it came to Draco, sometimes it was best not to ask questions. 

 

They finished the remains of their breakfast and it was while she was stacking their plates on the tray that she realized New Year’s Eve was the very next day. The year was coming to an end and at that point in time, she would be spending it alone. She chanced a glance at Draco and saw that he was pulling out textbooks from his school bag, along with ink and quills. 

 

The tray vanished with a simple thought on her part as she sat down again and pulled over her own school bag. “Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve,” she said conversationally, laying out several pages of notes in front of her. 

 

Draco scoffed. “New Year’s...what a pointless day to celebrate.” 

 

“Really?” she asked, her voice sounding much too high for her own liking. “A new year...a clean slate...a chance to start over.” 

 

He rolled his eyes and continued working on a Herbology essay. “Your shit doesn’t just disappear just because it’s a new year. Same stress. Same problems. Same bullshit.” 

 

Hermione scowled. His view was a bit pessimistic, even if he did have a point. “Well, regardless,” she said, her voice a bit too shrill. “I don’t really fancy starting off the new year alone in my empty common room reading or doing homework.” 

 

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her insinuation, but instead of addressing her subliminal request, he went another route. “How many new years have you brought in by  _ doing homework _ ?”

 

She stuck her tongue out and threw a broken quill at him. He ducked and it missed, landing on the floor behind him. He chuckled and shook his head. “None, if you can believe it,” she answered him with a sigh. “Before Hogwarts, mum and dad always had friends over. So it was always me with a bunch of adults but…” She felt her words melt away as she remembered all the New Year’s Eves she’d spent surrounded by adults, laughing and drinking champagne and some of them listening to her ramble incessantly. 

 

Draco was waiting for her to speak when she sighed and shook her head, scattering her memories. “And after Hogwarts?” he asked, genuinely sounding intrigued. 

 

“Either traveling with my parents, or being with Harry and Ron,” she answered. 

 

He was silent for a moment, fidgeting his fingers and looking anywhere but her. “I’ll be outside the room at nine o’clock tomorrow night,” he said quietly. 

 

Hermione nodded in understanding and smiled at him. “Thank you.” 

 

Draco cocked an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “For what?” 

 

* * *

 

After sharing their private breakfast and doing some schoolwork, Draco told her he had some things to take care of. She made him promise he would come for dinner, and he reassured her with a roll of his eyes and a wave as she disappeared down the corridor. As she made her way back to the common, she told herself she’d only made him promise so it meant he would eat at least twice that day and that it was definitely  _ not  _ because she wanted to see him again. 

 

When the common room had made her feel too lonely for comfort, she had retreated to the library for some leisurely reading. She retreated to a well-lit area complete with a two person sofa, some armchairs and a small round table in the middle. Hermione kicked off her shoes and folded her legs underneath her as she sat down and opened her book she took from her bag. A slip of folded up paper fell to the floor in front of her. Curious and confused, Hermione bent down to pick it up. 

 

She unfolded it and she gasped as her eyes scanned over the contents. Her heart was sinking as she drank in the words.  _ The night is only a sort of carbon paper...he suffers his desert pillow...his head is a little interior of grey mirrors...he lives without privacy in a lidless room.  _ It was a poem -- Insomniac -- by Sylvia Plath. She knew this was from Draco; there was no one else she had ever read Plath’s poems with. One lone tear splashed against the parchment. She wiped away the wet remains on her cheek and sniffled. She was about to tuck the paper into her schoolbag when she noticed handwriting at the bottom right corner of the page. She squinted at the small elegant writing only to decipher two short sentences. 

 

_ I don’t like talking about such things. This is easier.  _

 

Contrary to how she probably should have reacted, her heart soared. Finally he was opening up to her! Even if it was in the forms of poems, she could live with that. It was  _ something.  _ Of course now her mind was filled with countless questions. When had he read this poem? She hadn’t remembered reading it to him the day before, and when had he found the time to slip it not only into her bag, but into her copy of Angela’s Ashes? 

 

She made a mental note to try and ask him those questions later; whether or not he would actually give her answers, she didn’t know, but it was a worth a try.

 

There was no way she was going to be able to read now. There was too much to think about, too many what-ifs and unanswered questions mulling over in her mind. What was making Draco feel this way? So scared that it was stripping him of normal sleep? Filled with such a fear for failure and death that he could no longer dream peacefully? 

 

With a sigh of resignation, an odd sense of elation flowed through her at this minor breakthrough and a pang of pity settling in the pit of her stomach, Hermione got up from her spot on the couch, put her shoes on again and decided it was time for a lengthy walk around Hogwarts. 

 

* * *

 

Draco had shown up for dinner like he promised, but the disheveledness in his appearance worried her more than she let on. His hair looked at though it had been raked through a hundred times over, he smelled faintly of perspiration and his tie hung loosely around his neck. 

 

Hermione quickly glanced at the Professor’s table and was horrified when she saw Professor McGonagall studying Draco. Hermione flitted her gaze back to Draco, who was now pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork. She cleared her throat and leaned forward. “Are you alright?” she murmured, careful not move her lips too much. 

 

Draco glanced up at her then back down at his plate. “No.” 

 

She was taken back by his honesty, considering the note he had scribbled onto the poem. There wasn’t much she could do right then, not with other people around. Though the other students hadn’t even so much as glanced their way, there were other watching eyes. Hermione licked her lips before answering. 

 

“Room of Requirement after?” she whispered. 

 

There was the sudden sound of wood scraping against stone followed by footsteps. Hermione looked up to see Professor Snape striding over, his cape billowing behind him. Hermione cast her gaze downwards, trying to act as though she hadn’t just been conversing with Draco. 

 

She heard the sound of Draco’s knee banging against the underside of the table. Draco hissed and glared up at Snape, who had his hand clenched tightly around Draco’s shoulder. 

 

“Good evening, Draco,” he drawled. He paused. “Miss Granger.” 

 

Her cheeks burned as she forced herself to meet Snape’s gaze. “Professor,” she said curtly. 

 

He regarded her with an expression she couldn’t read before he turned his attention to Draco. “I hope you haven’t forgotten about our meeting tonight,” Snape said in a clipped tone. 

 

Draco shook his head. “No, sir. How could I forget?” 

 

Snape smirked and released his tight grip. “There’s no need for cheek, Draco.” 

 

And with that, he returned to the Professor’s table and she didn’t see who he talked to after he sat down. It did not seem like a coincidence that Snape had come over to remind Draco he had plans this evening after she had just asked him if he wanted to go to the Room of Requirement. Draco was staring down at his plate, his fork gripped so tightly in his hand his knuckles were white. 

 

“How long have you known about this meeting with Professor Snape?” she asked as they were leaving the Great Hall almost half an hour later. 

 

“Why does it matter?” Draco asked, sounding annoyed. 

 

They continued into the Entrance Hall and started walking towards the Grand Staircase. “Because,” she hissed. Two Hufflepuffs passed and they both watched as they disappeared towards the lower floor. “It just seems fishy that not long after McGonagall was eyeing you, Snape comes over and reminds you that you two have a meeting.” 

 

Draco looked surprised by this, but it was soon replaced with a scowl and a shake of his head. “Not that it’s any of your business, Granger, but this meeting with Snape has been planned since this afternoon.” 

 

“Oh,” she said quietly, feeling slightly foolish. 

 

“Why do you care if McGonagall was staring at me anyway?” he asked. 

 

“Hm? Oh… No reason. Just...seemed odd, that’s all,” she said airily. There was no way she was going to tell Draco about her conversation with McGonagall. 

 

She thought she saw a look of disappointment flicker across his features, but he was back to a blank stare before she had a chance to blink. She stammered, unsure of what else to say. 

 

“Well I’ve got to go,” he said, starting to walk away. “Nine o’clock.” 

 

Hermione nodded and waved as he got further away. “Nine o’clock.” 

 

She watched as he disappeared up the stairs and turned in the direction of Snape’s office. Hermione shook her head and let out a sigh. As she began to walk up the stairs, she realized her heart had never felt so heavy before. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione had spent the entirety of the next day counting down the minutes to nine o’clock. Much to her surprise and disappointment, Draco hadn’t come to breakfast, lunch or dinner. She’d walked the castle for a while, checking all of their usual spots but had come up short.  _ Typical,  _ she’d thought bitterly.  _ The one time we actually plan to meet up and he goes and disappears again. _

 

When her watch read five to nine, she left the Gryffindor common room and headed to the stretch of wall that held access to the Room of Requirement. 

 

“He better be here…” she mumbled grumpily to herself. “I swear if he’s not, I’ll--”

 

“Talking to yourself now, Granger?” Draco called. 

 

Hermione’s head snapped up. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards slightly. _He actually came_ , she told herself. He was there, in the flesh, walking towards her and it looked like he was carrying something in both his hands. 

 

“I’m surprised you’re here,” she said coolly. She wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily, even though she was pleased to see him. 

 

He set down the bag he had been carrying and  _ smiled  _ at her. In the few months that she’d come to know Draco, she had rarely seen him smile. The longer she studied him, the quicker she realized there was something different about his appearance. For the first time in months, it looked as though he’d slept more than a few hours. His hair was brushed, his clothes were clean and tidy and his tie was secured around his neck this time. 

 

“You look well,” she said, though it was more of a question than anything. 

 

Draco gestured for her to step back so he could pace back and forth. It was then that she spotted the bottle of firewhiskey sitting on the floor next to the bag he had been carrying. Her mouth hung open as he paced, one, two, three times in front of the blank stretch of stone wall. 

 

“Is that firewhiskey?” she asked incredulously. 

 

He stopped, a playful smirk on his lips. The door appeared with a tiny pop. “Good to know you can read.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and followed him into the room. He carried the bag over to the table and began extracting the contents. Cauldron cakes, pudding, fresh-baked cookies and other delectable foods covered the table. Hermione gaped down at it all, completely at a loss for words. 

 

“I thought you hated New Year’s?” she asked. Would she ever figure him out? 

 

“I do,” he replied. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy good food and a drink or two.” 

 

She hummed in agreement, because weren’t they both in need of desserts and alcohol? Hadn’t she spent one too many New Year’s sitting on the sidelines, listening to adults chatter endlessly? Wasn’t this year stressful enough? She deserved to let loose a little bit -- they both did. But still, Draco was acting uncharacteristically chipper. 

 

She didn’t press the matter with him; if this was the Draco she got that evening, it was more than fine with her. He handed her a plate so she could load some food onto it.  When they both had a fair share of sweets on their plates, they moved to the couch and Draco suggested that they play Wizard’s Chess, and though Hermione wasn’t a fan of the game, she agreed. 

 

Draco made his first move and Hermione decided perhaps that it was a good time to try and talk to him about the poem he had left her. 

 

“Insomniac,” she said the name of the poem and rested her chin in her hand. “It’s quite depressing, isn’t it?” 

 

It was her move now. 

 

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Many of her poems are depressing, are they not?” 

 

His move. She cursed herself as he took out one of her pieces. She never was the best at chess. 

 

“I suppose you’re right,” she said with a light-hearted chuckle. “So you like poetry then?” 

 

Draco shrugged as she made her move. She could have sworn her bishop was hissing at her from her poor choice in moves, but she wasn’t paying much attention. 

 

“It’s alright,” he sniffed. “From what I’ve read anyway.” 

 

It was his move, though her pieces were safe that time. She could tell he was avoiding the subject, but she’d come up with a new approach, and she was going to stick to it. Maybe if she opened up to him more, he would do the same. If she showed him she thought him worthy of hearing her thoughts and feelings, maybe he would let her into his own thoughts. 

 

“Charles Baudelaire is another good poet. He’s French--” she started to ramble on about the different poets that she knew of and ones she’s liked and didn’t like. It was when she just happened to actually look directly at Draco that she noticed he was staring, wearing an intrigued expression. 

 

Her cheeks grew hot and she stopped talking immediately. Their chess game had become abandoned, the pieces yelling at them to make their next move. “What?” she asked after a prolonged moment of silence. 

 

“Nothing,” he said quickly, glancing down at his lap. 

 

She studied him for a moment but decided not to press him. She did notice that he was smiling slightly and her cheeks only grew hotter. 

 

* * *

 

After their abandoned chess game, Hermione thought it would be nice to have a radio and a second later, the room supplied one. When Draco shot her a perplexed look, she simply said, “For music. And the countdown to midnight later.” 

 

They played a few games of exploding snap and Hermione laughed hysterically when one of his eyebrows became singed, and he retaliated by chucking a Pumpkin Pasty at her. She shrieked and tried to dodge it, but clumps of pumpkin got stuck in her hair. 

 

“Arsehole,” she muttered as she picked bits of the sweet out of her hair while Draco practically howled with laughter, clutching his stomach. 

 

“Sorry,” he said as he regained his composure. 

 

Hermione scowled at him but couldn’t hold back her smile, “Are not.” She swore there was another piece of pumpkin pasty stuck in her frizzy strands of wild hair, but she just couldn’t find it. 

 

“Here,” Draco said suddenly, scooting forward so they were sitting inches apart on the floor. “Let me.” 

 

Her hands dropped into her lap as Draco’s hands gently searched her hair. She winced when he ran into knots and he mumbled under his breath incoherently, though if she had to guess, it was snarky comments about the state of her hair. 

 

“There you are, you little bugger!” She heard him exclaim as he pulled the last bit from her hair. As he did so, the tips of his fingers brushed against her cheek. She nearly jumped at his touch but managed to cover it up by fidgeting in her spot. Her skin continued to tingle even after his hands were nowhere near her hair or face. 

 

“Thanks,” she said as he flicked the bit of pasty into the fire. 

 

“I shouldn’t have, considering you laughed at my eyebrow in the first place,” he said with a smirk. 

 

She chuckled and shook her head. “I’ll consider myself lucky then.” 

 

* * *

 

They spent the next hour or so sipping Firewhiskey and talking. Conversing with Draco, about anything that  _ didn’t _ have to do with him and his strange disappearances, was the easiest thing in the world. Easier than brewing a boils antidote, and she could practically do that in her sleep. She wasn’t quite sure how they flowed from one topic to the next with such ease but they just...did. There were a lot of things about the two of them she couldn’t explain. Like how they had even managed to form a friendship in the first place. 

 

She had never thought Draco was stupid, because she was aware he was right behind her for best in their year, but she hadn’t known the full extent of his intelligence. But after they had spent almost two hours talking about foreign policies and the corruption in government and ways Hogwarts desperately needed to upgrade their curriculum, she was burning to ask him one particular question. 

 

“I have to ask,” she said, her words slurring slightly. “Do you, well given our...friendship, do you still believe muggle-borns are inferior to purebloods?” 

 

Draco sighed heavily at this, setting down his glass next to him on the carpet. “Honestly?” He paused and she was left waiting with bated breath for his answer. “I have no idea what to believe anymore.” 

 

Hermione didn’t know what to make of his answer. Did that mean that even though he willingly spoke to her and picked bits of sweets out of her hair and took walks with her, that he still saw her as less than himself? Was a part of him still looking down at her for who she was? 

 

“I don’t...I can’t see  _ you  _ as inferior to me,” he said. “That much I’ve worked out.” 

 

Now this came to a shock. He’d thought about this before? 

 

“Alright,” she said slowly, swirling the liquid in her glass. At least he didn’t look down on her anymore. When exactly that changed for him, she didn’t know. 

 

“I mean, you’re obviously brilliant,” he continued, staring straight ahead now. It would have been funny to see him with his pink cheeks, drunkenly going on like this, but the matter at hand was too important for her to even crack a smile. “I can’t very well deny that you’re a talented witch.” 

 

She was blushing now, and she was quite thankful for the heat of the fire hitting their faces. Maybe he wouldn’t see just how red her cheeks were, and if he did she could always blame it on the fire and the alcohol. 

 

“But I think the question that needs to be asked,” he slurred, sloshing a bit of liquid onto the carpet. “Is why the hell you want to be around someone like me.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke and Hermione felt something in her chest snap. 

 

“Draco,” she said quietly. 

 

“I mean, did you hear the question you just asked me?” he said over her, his features marred with disgust for himself. 

 

“Stop it!” she nearly shouted. She wasn’t going to sit there and let him tear himself apart like that. “I…” she stammered, but for the first time in her life, she didn’t have a logical explanation. Because nothing about this was logical at all. She shouldn’t want to spend as much time with him as possible. She shouldn’t lay awake at night worrying about him and wondering if he was alright. She shouldn’t have been so excited to be with him tonight. He was supposed to be her enemy. He was supposed to hate her, and she was supposed to hate him. 

 

“Look, I can’t really explain it,” she breathed. “I...I like spending time with you. And I think…” she inhaled deeply then took another sip of her firewhiskey. “I think you’re not really what you seem. There’s more to you than meets the eye and...what’s underneath isn’t so bad.” 

 

Draco remained quiet, picking at bits of fuzz on the carpet. The fire crackled in front of them. The radio host had just announced there was only thirty minutes till midnight before the next song began to play. 

 

“You’re mad, Granger. You know that?” Draco muttered. 

 

She hummed quietly and took  another sip. Her glass was nearly empty now. “Some would say the same about you. Hanging around with a Muggle-born.” 

 

Silence fell between them again and then another important question popped into her head. Something she’d been worried about these last few days as the holiday drew to a close, but one she didn’t really want to think about. 

 

“We’ll have to go back to ignoring one another once our friends come back, won’t we?” she asked, her voice sounding too small for her liking. 

 

“Seeing as your friends hate me, and mine hate you, I suppose we will Granger, yes,” he said dully. 

 

Hermione noticed that he didn’t look thrilled about it either. A weight settled in the pit of her stomach. Of course they’d had to sneak around even during the holidays, with Professors watching over them, but that was different to being surrounded by their classmates. At least with only Professors around, it was easier to hide away. Hermione had never dreaded the start of a new term quite so much before. 

 

“And with only fifteen minutes left until the New Year…” the radio host’s voice crackled through the speakers, disrupting her thoughts. 

 

Draco handed her the bottle of Firewhiskey so she could refill her glass, before helping himself to more as well. He set the bottle between them with a thud and leaned back onto his hands, his legs stretched out in front of him. Hermione mimicked his position, sighing in relief as the blood flowed to her calves. She noticed the pained expression on his face, the tension in his shoulders and the grinding of his jaw. This wasn’t exactly how she imagined their New Year starting out. 

 

With a sense of determination flowing through her, Hermione got to her feet and held out her hand to Draco. “Get up,” she said. 

 

“Why?” he asked, looking slightly apprehensive. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Just do it.” 

 

And so he did. She pulled him before turning the volume on the radio up. The Weird Sisters’ new single was now playing loudly, filling the cozy room. With enough alcohol in her system to numb any sense of embarrassment, she spun around with her arms in the air and a smile on her face. She was slightly dizzy as she stood before him, her hand outstretched. “Care to dance?” 

 

Draco looked at her hand and took a hesitant step backwards. “I don’t know…” 

 

“Oh come on!” she pleaded. “Don’t tell me you  _ want  _ to start out your New Year sitting on the floor moping?” 

 

Before he could answer, Hermione grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey and poured the last of its contents into his cup. “Drink,” she ordered. “You probably won’t remember this in the morning, now.” 

To her surprise, Draco obliged, drowning the contents of his cup in one go and with only a moment of hesitation, he grabbed her outstretched hand and spun her underneath his arm. Hermione smiled gleefully as she clumsily came to a stop in front of him again. 

 

“Well come on then,” she chuckled. “I know you Purebloods know how to dance.” 

 

Draco smirked and in the blink of an eye, pulled her to him, so their fronts were touching and her hand was clasped in his. He had one arm around her waist as they began to move slowly around the room. “Yes, Granger,” he murmured, his breath warm on her face. “We Purebloods are quite good at ballroom dancing.” 

 

As with every start to a New Year, a slow ballad came on the radio as the host counted down the final seconds of the remaining year. Hermione’s head was fuzzy as she and Draco gracefully moved about the room, his arm still firmly around her waist. He was smiling down at her lazily, his hand warm and strong against hers. Their feet moved in perfect rhythm as the seconds drew closer. 

 

“Five...four...three…”

 

He spun her out once more and drew her back in. They both laughed as she nearly lost her balance. “Two...one!” 

 

The song changed quickly to a more upbeat tune, but Draco stayed where he was. His hand was still clasped around hers, their fronts still touching and her hand still on his shoulder. 

 

“Happy New Year, Draco,” she whispered. 

 

“Happy New Year, Granger.” 

 

And then his face fell. As the first few seconds of the New Year ticked by, Draco sat down again and studied the empty bottle of Firewhiskey. It was then that Hermione realized Draco was absolutely right.

 

A New Year meant nothing. Your problems were still there, looming over your head. It was the same bullshit, just a new day. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later, Hermione woke with a start. Her hair was plastered to half her face and there was a line of dried drool from the corner of her mouth to her chin. There was a dull pounding behind her eyes that reached behind her ears and her mouth was as dry as a desert. She looked around the Room of Requirement wildly, but found that she was alone. Her heart filled with disappointment as she laid back down on the floor. _Of course he’s gone_ , she thought to herself. 

 

She waited until the room stopped spinning before she sat up to pack up her things and head back to the common room for a shower. As she cleaned up the last of the sweets’ wrappers, she noticed a note sitting on one of the chairs by the table. She wandered over and picked it up. 

 

_ Had some things to take care of. See you at dinner?  _

 

Hermione crumpled the note, contemplating ripping it to shreds. Instead, she stuffed it into the depths of her bag. She wasn’t surprised that he was gone, but she’d just hoped that maybe...maybe when she woke up and he would still be there. 

 

She didn’t know when they fell asleep, all she remembered was watching the rise and fall of chest as her eyes grew heavier and heavier. She pulled on her shoes and tied her back into a ponytail before taking one last look at the room, and wrenched the door open. 

 

When she reached The Fat Lady, she saw that she was slumped against the edge of her painting, her eyes barely open. Hermione stopped and cocked her head. It was The Fat Lady who spoke first, however. “Hungover too, darling?” she croaked. 

 

Hermione nodded. “A bit,” she admitted, shuffling her feet. 

 

“Wine?” The Fat Lady asked lazily. 

 

“Firewhiskey,” she replied with a shake of her head. 

 

“Hmm.” 

 

Hermione waited for a moment before addressing her problem at hand. “Erm...I don’t think I was ever informed of a new password…” 

 

The Fat Lady had dozed off for a moment but jumped when Hermione spoke. “Hm? Oh, yes, the password…” she trailed off. “Dear, it doesn’t change to abstinence until Friday.” 

 

“Oh,” she said. “Baubles, then.” 

 

The Fat Lady nodded before she swung open, allowing Hermione to climb through.  

 

Hermione trudged upstairs, threw her bag down on her bed and drew herself a much needed hot bath, where she could wallow in her thoughts in peace. 

*****

Hermione had not seen or heard from Draco since dinner on Wednesday and it was now Friday morning. She was practically seething at this because in a few hours time, everyone would be back at Hogwarts and Draco was nowhere to be found. Hermione angrily packed up her books and pushed her chair away from the table, not caring that the chair had bumped into the bookcase behind her. 

 

She had come to enjoy the last bit of peace she would get in the library and had been hoping Draco would show up and join her, but after being there for almost three hours, she’d given up. Her back was stiff and her bum had gone numb.  _ They really need to get more comfortable chairs,  _ she thought bitterly to herself as she walked along the fourth floor corridor. 

 

“‘Ello ‘Ermione!” said a booming voice behind her. 

 

Hermione turned around to see Hagrid striding towards her, a wide grin stretching across his features. “Oh,” she said tiredly. “Hello, Hagrid.” 

 

He frowned when he noticed the crestfallen look on her face. “Somethin’ the matter?”

 

Hermione shook her head. “No, just a bit tired I suppose. I had loads of homework over break,” she lied. 

 

Hagrid didn’t seem to believe her but merely hummed and nodded. “Why don’t yeh come round my place after lunch?” 

 

She pondered the offer for a moment. It had been a while since she’d been to visit Hagrid, and it would be nice to get out of the castle. It might even distract her from thinking about Draco, which she seemed to be doing twenty-four seven these days. 

 

“I will,” she promised. “Three o’clock?” 

 

Hagrid nodded and patted her on the shoulder before turning around to the way he came. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione groaned inwardly as she made her way up the Grand Staircase after just having come back from Hagrid’s. The Entrance Hall and corridors were flooded with students, all scrambling to see their friends or head back to their dormitories. 

 

She hoped that maybe Harry and Ron hadn’t arrived yet and she would be able to sneak up to the girl’s dormitory for the rest of the evening but with her hand clenched involuntarily around a scrolled bit of parchment in her right hand, she couldn’t. Dumbledore had stopped her in the Entrance Hall and asked her to deliver the note directly to Harry, leaving her no choice but to wait up for her friends. When she arrived at The Fat Lady, she saw Harry, Ron and Ginny standing there looking confused and annoyed. 

 

“Well how are we supposed to know the new bloody password?” Ron asked crossly. 

 

“There’s no need to shout,” The Fat Lady said curtly. 

 

“Harry!” Hermione called, completely ignoring Ron. 

 

Harry shot her a quizzical look as he took in her appearance, as she was bundled from head to toe. “I was off visiting Hagrid,” she explained as she grew closer. She sighed deeply. “So, have a good Christmas?” 

 

Ron started to speak, but Hermione ignored him and in instead handed him the note from Dumbledore. “I’m supposed to give this to you.” 

 

Harry took it and tucked it into his pocket. The Fat Lady made a scoffing sound, her arms crossed over her chest. Hermione thought she still looked ill.  _ How much wine did she have exactly?  _

 

“Oh, right,” Hermione said abruptly. “Abstinence.” 

 

The Fat Lady nodded and swung open, allowing them to enter the common room. Ron and Ginny climbed in first, with Harry and Hermione bringing up the rear. 

 

“Erm, what’s wrong with The Fat Lady?” Harry asked, glancing back at the backside of the portrait. 

 

“Oh,” she said. “She’s still a bit hungover from New Year’s.” 

 

Once inside, Hermione and Harry secluded themselves in a quiet corner of the common room. Ginny had disappeared, probably to meet Dean, and Lavender had flung herself into Ron’s arms the moment she saw him walk through the portrait hole. They sat down at a small table as Harry read the message from Dumbledore. 

 

“Brilliant!” he said excitedly. “I’ve got a lesson with Dumbledore tomorrow night.” 

 

“That’s great, Harry--”

 

“How was your Christmas, Hermione?” he asked, but Hermione could tell he was itching to pick up their conversation from the start of Christmas Holidays.

 

“It was alright. Nothing exciting or unusual, really,” she said flippantly. “What about Christmas at Ron’s?” 

 

“Hermione, please just try and patch things up between you two,” Harry pleaded

 

“No,” she said sternly. 

 

“It’s been two weeks. I thought this would--” 

 

She held up a hand to silence him. If Ron was still acting like an arse, she wouldn’t be speaking to him. Not only did she have no desire to witness Ron and Lavender’s snogging sessions, but he hadn’t apologized for mocking her in class. He was a different person after Lavender jumped down his throat the first time. 

 

“I’m not the one who overindulged on wine,” she said in a tone that left Harry no room to argue.  _ Firewhiskey, yes.  _ But Harry didn’t need to know that.  

 

Harry took that as his cue to launch into everything he’d been waiting two weeks to tell her. He recounted the night of Snape and Draco’s argument, which she had been horrified to learn she had been right; of _ course  _ Harry overheard that, but she gave him the courtesy of listening as he rambled. When he finished, she didn’t say anything at first. She hadn’t completely forgotten Draco’s argument with Snape, but it had slipped to the back of her mind over the holidays. 

 

“Look, Harry,” she began, and he sighed, sinking back in his chair. “Isn’t it possible that--” 

 

“Snape was just pretending and it was all really on Dumbledore’s orders so they could find out what Malfoy’s up to?” he finished dully. “Yeah, I thought you might say that.” 

 

Hermione bit her lip. She really didn’t want to admit it to herself, but the facts were hard to deny. “I’m not saying he’s not up to something,” she said slowly. “But it’s not our business, Harry. Besides,” she said, sitting up a little straighter. “I think you’ve got more important things to worry about other than what Draco’s up to.” She nodded at the parchment lying on the table between them. 

 

He eyed her suspiciously, but said nothing other than, “I just wish I knew why Dumbledore’s showing me all these memories.” 

 

“Me too, Harry,” she sighed. 

 

There were loads of things she wish she knew the reasonings behind. Draco’s strange disappearances, his argument with Snape and his cryptic comments about himself on New Year’s Eve. But she supposed she would either have to wait and see if the answers became clear in time, or if she’d have to find them herself. 


	13. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by oeuvre24, and she's uploading on ff.net! 
> 
> Thank you all so so SO much for the reviews and follows and love ^^

 

Hermione was a tad more tired than usual waking up on the morning of the new school term. She could hear her dorm mates bustling around the room and she contained a groan of annoyance when she heard Lavender rattle on about how excited she was to see Ron. She had well and truly had enough of hearing about the two lovebirds and had been glad of the reprieve from it that the Christmas holidays brought.

 

Once she had gotten out of bed, freshened up and gotten dressed, she walked down to the common room and saw a gathering of sixth year students around the noticeboard which hung by the common room entrance. She saw Harry and Ron standing in the crowd, and walked up behind them. “What’s going on?” She asked.

 

Even though she had directed the question towards Harry, Ron turned his head slightly. “There’s a sign-up sheet for apparition lessons,” he said.

 

Hermione felt a rush of excitement. Ever since she’d been a little girl, reading fictional stories of witches and wizards, she’d always wished she was able to disappear and appear wherever she wanted, just like the magical people in her stories did. Coming to the Wizarding world, she’d been ecstatic to find out that it was indeed possible, and had read up on exactly what apparition was. She quickly pushed through the middle of Harry and Ron with a grin and made her way up to the noticeboard and wrote her name down quickly when a quill was passed her way.

 

The upcoming apparition lessons was the main topic of conversation between the sixth years as they went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. “I just hope it’s better when you do it by yourself. I hated it when Dumbledore apparated with me,” Harry told Hermione and Ron.

 

“I keep forgetting you’ve already done it,” Ron said. “Was it really that bad?”

 

“I don’t want to be doing it again any time soon, so there’s that,” Harry shrugged.

 

Hermione smiled at that and walked alongside them, listening to Ron express his worry about how he didn’t want to fail his apparition test. Being like this again, just the three of them talking about nothing serious, with no bickering -- and no Lavender -- was great and made Hermione miss what they had before her and Ron fell out. The thought made her wonder if she was perhaps being too childish about her anger, but remembering his teasing remarks to her in class, his biting anger, and the annoyance that was now his girlfriend tagging alongside him everywhere, made her think that she had the right to be angry and upset with him.

 

Arriving at the Great Hall, Hermione momentarily stopped in the doorway before continuing on, following Harry and Ron. The sight of all four house tables took her by surprise as she was so used to just seeing the one long table that she’d sat at every day over the holidays. She sighed quietly and knew that as much as she wanted it to be the holidays again, for her and Draco to have their own bubble where he wasn’t afraid to open up, she had truly missed her classes and was eager to get back to work. She sat on the same side of the table as Harry and put some food on her plate while he and Ron continued to chat about apparition. While chewing on her piece of toast, she looked over at the Slytherin table and looked at everyone sitting there. She saw Crabbe and Goyle, talking, with the latter looking confused and almost angry; Parkinson sat between Nott and Zabini, all three of them laughing as they spoke. There was no sign of Draco. Even if she hadn’t become so close to him she would have found it disconcerting seeing the Slytherin table with no Draco Malfoy sitting at it.

 

It was a few minutes later that someone walked into the Great Hall and Hermione paused in her chewing when she saw that it was Draco. He looked just as tired as ever as he walked between the tables to get to Slytherin’s. Gone was the air of confidence and smug pride that he’d had in himself ever since they had all started at Hogwarts. Replaced was a broken boy, shoulders sagging, though having a body taut with stress. She watched as he walked straight past Zabini, Nott and Parkinson to the end of the table where no one sat. He picked up a piece of toast and turned back the way he came and left the Great Hall. Hermione had to cross her legs to stop herself from rushing after him, demanding to know if something had happened. She saw that his housemates seemed to notice his quick arrival and departure, as they were no longer laughing, but leaning close together, speaking. Hermione’s eyes caught Parkinson’s when the latter looked up, so Hermione quickly averted her eyes and put the last of her toast in her mouth before standing up.

 

“Where are you going?” Harry asked her, reaching out to grab her sleeve after she’d gotten out of her seat.

 

“To class,” she answered and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I have Ancient Runes first and I can’t be late.”

 

She didn’t wait to hear what he had to say next, but heard Ron mutter something as she turned on her heel to walk out of the Great Hall. She gritted her teeth and quickened her steps as she got nearer to the door, trying not to look as if she was on a mission. She turned towards the grand staircase and bit her tongue when she saw Draco at the top.  _ Don’t call out, there’s too many people _ , she reminded herself repeatedly and climbed the stairs quickly. When she got to the top, she ran forward a few steps to him after checking there was no one around. “Draco!” She called out to him and she saw his steps falter before he stopped.

 

“What?” He asked when he turned around and his eyes darted behind her, checking their surroundings.

 

“Are you okay?” She asked on a breath out, still puffed from climbing the stairs so quickly. “I saw you come into the hall--”

 

“I’m fine,” Draco said abruptly.

 

She stared at him, not believing a word.  _ Don’t push him. If you push him, he’ll go _ . “Will you be in class?” She asked him.

 

He looked her in the eye for several seconds which felt much longer to her. “No,” was his only reply and he turned away from her, and despite her instincts telling her to follow, her mind screaming that he needed her to be there, she stayed where she was standing, fingers curled tightly into fists by her sides. Defeated.

 

“What were you doing?” A voice snapped Hermione from her thoughts.

 

The voice was familiar and Hermione straightened her shoulders before turning around to face Pansy Parkinson. “Why do you care?” She retorted, narrowing her eyes at the witch standing in front of her.

 

“Because you’re getting too close to people who want  _ nothing _ to do with you,” Pansy sneered. “Know your place and stop sticking your swotty nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

 

Hermione clenched her jaw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Parkinson.”

 

The girl laughed cruelly. “Oh yes you do, Granger,” she spat. “What do you even need to talk to Draco about, anyway?” She demanded to know.

 

_ Ah, so that’s what this is all about _ , Hermione thought. Quickly, she came up with a believable lie. “He took my scales when we had to partner in Potions. I want them back so you can tell him to do so.”

 

“I won’t do anything for you,” Parkinson scoffed and stepped forward so they were only a foot apart. It was too late for Hermione to reach into her robes for her wand even though she desperately wanted to.

 

“Why do you care that I had to talk to Malfoy?” Hermione asked, glaring at her. “What made you follow me?”

 

Pansy’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Because I don’t want him muddied up by your presence.” The bell rang, announcing the end of breakfast, but Hermione and Pansy stayed standing almost toe-to-toe, staring each other down. “Don’t get too comfortable, Mudblood. Trust me on that one,” Pansy said smugly and pushed past her, pulling the strap of Hermione’s bookbag off her shoulder, causing it to fall onto the ground.

 

Anger flared like an inferno inside of Hermione and she’d hardly ever felt such a desire to take her wand out against another person before. She could hardly do so, though, as students ascended the staircase, piling into the first floor corridor. They gave her space as she knelt down to put her books back into her bag and she was just about to put away the last one when a hand reached down to grab it first. She looked up to see Harry looking down at her with a look of concern. “Are you okay?” He asked.

 

Hermione struggled to stay calm and not crumble before her best friend. There he stood, with the weight of the world on his own shoulders, with even greater challenges ahead of him, but he was still just as attentive to her and how she felt. She gave him a weak smile before she stood up and took her book back from him. “I’ll be fine,” she said and slipped the book into her bag again.

 

“I thought you were getting to class early?” Harry asked and walked with her down the corridor.

 

“I just got caught up,” she told him and pushed her hair back off her face.

 

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” He asked and she felt his hand on the top of her arm.

 

She stopped and faced him. “I’m fine, Harry,” she told him. “Please don’t worry about me.” From the look on his face, he was unsure of what to think. “Look, I’ll--” She paused, stumbling over what to say to make him believe she was alright. “I’ll tell you later on tonight,” she said after remembering Harry’s lesson with Dumbledore was that night too and surely by the time he returned from it, he would have completely forgotten about this conversation with her. “I’ve got to go, Harry, I’m going to be late,” she said and gave him a small smile before rushing down the corridor, her mind spinning and thinking of everything but her upcoming class.

 

* * *

 

 

That night, despite the presence of Lavender and Ron sitting closely together on the sofa opposite her, Hermione stayed in the common room to do her homework. She hadn’t seen Draco since she followed him out of the Great Hall that morning, and had trouble concentrating in her classes due to her worry over his well-being. She’d avoided the library, knowing he wouldn’t be there and that the thoughts associated with the place would just bring her distraction. Staying in the common room after classes had finished seemed like the next best idea, especially as she wanted to hear from Harry on how his lesson with Professor Dumbledore had gone.

 

The conversation in the room between the various sixth years sitting around turned back to apparition and everyone began spouting their opinions on what it would feel like and how easy it would be. Hermione couldn’t help but look up from her books. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she’d said to Seamus Finnegan when he announced that he thought it would be as easy as clicking his fingers. “Apparition takes a great deal of concentration and willpower. It’s not going to be easy,” she said, and everyone looked at her.

 

Ron scoffed and Hermione looked over at him. “How do you know? You’ve never apparated before,” he said and Lavender giggled into his shoulder.

 

“Well,” Hermione began and her cheeks flushed, noticing how  _ everyone _ was waiting for her response to Ron. “I read about it in my first year, there’s many books on it in the library if--”

 

“Should have guessed that you’d read about it,” Ron snorted and some of their housemates laughed too.

 

Hermione stared at Ron for a few seconds, wondering where on earth her understanding best friend had gone, replaced by someone she didn’t  _ want _ to be around. She gathered her books up and left the common room, going to her dormitory. She put her books away and changed into her pyjamas before drawing the curtains around her bed, staring up at the canopy above her. She knew that Ron had some idea of why she had researched so much about the Wizarding world. She was determined to prove her worth as a witch regardless of her blood status, and if she had to read about everything she possibly could about the world she was immersed in, then she would do so; and she had done, ever since her letter first arrived almost seven years previous.

 

Hermione stared and stared at the canopy over her bed. She stared while her eyes watered. She stared while she heard her dorm-mates get ready for bed. She stared while listening to Lavender and Padma giggle quietly about what Ron had said to make her leave early, both girls thinking she was asleep. She stared, wanting everything to be right again. Wanting her friend group back as a whole. Wanting the world to be an easier place to live in at that moment.

 

And the last thing she thought of before her eyes couldn’t take it anymore, and she shut them to welcome darkness, was Draco. She wanted him to trust her enough to tell her what was troubling him so much. She wanted to see him not looking so tired or ill. She wanted him to understand that she cared. But most of all, she just wanted him to be okay. Perfectly normal, happy and without burden.

 

Even if it did mean she wouldn’t be around him any longer.

 

* * *

 

The next day Hermione went through the normal routine of her classes. She sat away from Harry and Ron during Herbology, as the latter had pulled Harry to the smallest workspace in the room. Even if Hermione had wanted to sit with them, all three of them wouldn’t have fit. Between listening to Professor Sprout, Hermione glanced at Ron and Harry, watching them converse quite seriously. She figured that they must have cast a Muffliato charm, as she couldn’t even make out a whisper of any word they spoke. When class ended, Hermione was quick to leave, ignoring Harry who called out to her.

 

She had skipped morning break and arrived early to Ancient Runes but was the last to enter the classroom when the bell rang for the commencement of classes. She’d waited until the last moment possible until she realised that Draco wouldn’t be turning up to class. Professor Babbling didn’t seem to notice, and taught the entire single period without a glance at the back corner where Draco normally sat.

 

The bell rang later and Hermione packed her things from her desk. She planned to head to the seventh floor as she had a free period and knew that there was only two places Draco would be -- either in his common room, or in the Room of Requirement, where she planned to go. She walked quickly, not wanting anyone to see her heading to the seventh floor but bypassing the Gryffindor common room. As she neared the corridor where the Room of Requirement was hidden, her steps hurried and she held the straps of her bag tightly. In a cruel twist of fate, she rounded the corner of the corridor but stopped dead in her tracks when she heard her name being called out, and the sound of shoes hitting the stone floor quickly. She knew it was Harry, and turned around to see him pull up into a jog then come to a stop in front of her. “Need...to talk...to you,” he panted. “Didn’t you...hear me?”

 

“Hear what?” Hermione asked in confusion, breathing a little harder herself from walking so quickly, and now her frustration from being stopped  _ so _ close to where Draco was most likely hiding out.

 

“I was calling your name,” Harry told her, recovering from his breathlessness. “I was running after you, but never mind that,” he shook his head.

 

“Harry, I really need to go,” Hermione told him, trying to brush him off as easily as possible. “I have something I need to do,” she said as she stepped backwards and turned to face down the stretch of corridor where the door to the Room of Requirement was hidden.

 

“No, Hermione, this is important,” Harry said, stepping forward and put his hand on her arm. “ _ Please _ .”

 

A loud crashing noise made them whip their heads to the side, looking down the corridor where two small girls stood huddled together with two small cauldrons lying at their feet.

 

“You should be in class!” Hermione called down to them. “Hurry or I’ll have to take points off,” she said, adhering to her duties of being a Prefect. The girls scurried off quickly without a backwards glance.

 

“Hermione,” Harry said again, not having cared about the girls. Hermione looked back at him and saw the pleading in his eyes. “It’s about what Dumbledore told me last night,” he said, his voice quiet.

 

Hermione’s eyes widened. She had completely forgotten about Harry’s lesson. “Oh, yes, yes we need to go somewhere more private, not here,” she said and began to walk back the way they came. “I’m sorry, Harry, I completely forgot you had your lesson--”

 

She apologised to her best friend as they walked through the castle, Harry leading the way to head outside. It was freezing cold and the snow crunched beneath their shoes. Hermione wrapped her robes tighter around herself and looked at Harry who’s cheeks were turning red from the intense chill of the wind outside. Despite the uncomfortable temperature, and the fact that snow was getting inside her shoes, soaking her feet, she knew that this was where they needed to be to maintain complete privacy.  _ No-one _ else could know about Harry and Dumbledore’s lessons. She listened intently to Harry as he first explained the memories he was shown of Tom Riddle returning to his mother’s home and the subsequent action that followed, and she retained every single question she had about it so she could think about them at a later time. When Harry began to tell her of Slughorn’s memory, her brow furrowed. She knew several of the Professors at Hogwarts had been around for many years, like Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall, but even still, the fact that Professor Slughorn and other teachers at the castle, had taught a young Voldemort, brought a chill to Hermione’s bones that had nothing to do with the freezing environment she and Harry were standing in.

 

“A Horcrux?” She repeated Harry when he finally finished telling her everything he had learnt during his lesson. She wracked her brain for any sort of information she had on such a thing, but came up empty. “I’ve never heard of a Horcrux, Harry,” she said and saw him frown and scrunch his brows in frustration.

 

“I don’t even know where to start,” Harry muttered and she saw the muscle in his jaw twitch.

 

“It has to be something to do with Dark Arts,” she said. “Why else would Voldemort want to know about it?” She questioned.

 

“That makes sense…” Harry mused.

 

“I’ll check the library for everything I can find,” she assured him. “And I can get a pass to the restricted section from Professor Mc--” She began to say Professor McGonagall, but she wondered if the elder witch was still as fond of her after everything she’d had to do with Draco. “I’ll get a pass from someone,” Hermione finished when Harry looked at her peculiarly.

 

“You’re the best, you really are,” Harry told her with a smile.

 

“I’m your best friend, Harry,” she assured him with a smile of your own. “Of course I’m going to help out. Whatever way I can,” she said. “Now, have you thought about how you’re going to get the real memory from Slughorn?” She asked.

 

“Ron said I should just hang back after class.”

 

Hermione stiffened at the mention of Ron, but nodded. As much as she didn’t want to think of him after his comments the night previous, she had to tolerate him as long as they were helping Harry. “That could work…” She said after several moments. “You’ll just have to go about it the right way. Not too bluntly or Slughorn’s going to know that Professor Dumbledore’s putting you up to it.”

 

“He’s going to know either way,” Harry said. “There’s no easy way to go about any of this, it’s driving me insane,” he sighed irritably.

 

“There’s no easy way to go about anything anymore,” Hermione agreed and stared down at the snow now almost covering her feet entirely. She couldn’t feel her toes at all, it felt like she was standing on nothing; that her shoes were empty.

 

Maybe, she thought, that was why Draco spent so much time outside without so much as a coat on. To feel nothing. Nothing at all.

 

* * *

 

 

That Thursday, Hermione arrived to Potions at the same time as Harry and Ron, as they had all just had their Herbology lesson of the day. She walked behind the boys on the way there, and as they came into the dungeons to head to the classroom, a group of Slytherins cut in front of them. Parkinson, Zabini, Nott and Draco all walked ahead, the first three laughing, occasionally turning their heads back to sneer at her, Harry and Ron. Hermione could see the tips of Ron’s ears turning red and saw Harry’s hands clenched at his sides. Hermione watched Draco discretely as he walked alongside his housemates, only looking up when one of them addressed him directly; but he didn’t speak, nor make any expression on his face. He looked ill again. Pale and sickly, which worried Hermione. It scared her how much she worried for him.

 

When they arrived at the classroom, the door was already open and everyone filed in to sit at their normal seats. Everyone except Hermione, who took the desk at the front of the room by herself. She was still rather annoyed at Ron and though she hated isolating herself from Harry too, she knew she’d work better on a table by herself. She glanced back at her friends and saw Harry pull out his Advanced Potion Making book and it was only then that the issue of the Half-Blood Prince sprung back into her mind. With everything that had been happening over the school holidays, and mostly avoiding Harry and Ron, she’d forgotten about her friend’s graffitied textbook which was giving him an extra edge in class. Her frustration levels rose as she knew that no matter how hard she tried to make her potion perfect, Harry was no doubt going to come out on top of the class again.

 

Fate seemed to be working with her, however, as Slughorn made his way to the front of the classroom and got everyone’s attention. “Settle down everyone, time to get to work,” he said. “Today we’ll be learning about a rather complicated theory. Can anyone tell me about Golpalott’s Third Law?” He asked.

 

Hermione’s confidence bloomed. She knew the Law almost word-for-word and there was no way that Harry’s book could help him out! “Golpalott’s Third Law is the law for potion antidotes,” she said after she raised her hand and Slughorn gestured her to speak. “It states that you can’t make an antidote for a blended potion simply by mixing the antidotes of all the separate potions together. The law is that the antidote for a blended potion will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate potions.” She was breathless after answering, having been too excited over the prospect of becoming top of the class once more.

 

“Well done, Miss Granger,” Slughorn praised. “Ten points to Gryffindor for such a good explanation.”

 

Hermione beamed. She wanted to steal a glance at Draco, to see if he understood the Law just as well as she did, but it would be much too obvious turning around to look at him, as he sat with the other Slytherins near the back of the room. After Slughorn’s long-winded explanation of Golpalott’s Third Law to the class, he gave instructions on what they were to do. “I’d like each of you to take one of these vials,” he swept his hand back to a variety of potion vials that sat on his desk. “You need to create the antidote for the poison inside it before the end of the lesson. Good luck!” He clapped his hands together.

 

Hermione was already off her seat by the time Slughorn clapped his hands, and she rushed forward to pick up a potion that was deep green in purple. The Professor’s claps seemed to have woken a few students from their bored stupor, and one by one, everyone started getting up to retrieve their own vial of potion. Hermione watched Harry take a vial and walk back past her table. “Shame your book can’t help you, Harry,” she said smugly, but hoped she was hiding it well. “You need to understand the principles of the law.”

 

“Don’t, Hermione,” Harry said in annoyance and kept walking. She felt a small stab of guilt for acting the way she had, but toughened up and got straight to work. She would come out victorious at the end of the lesson; she  _ had _ to.

 

She waved her wand across the top of her cauldron, reciting spells in her head which would help identify each individual potion so she could. Hermione didn’t look up from her work; not to look at anyone, even Harry who was no doubt stumped over the lack of help his book would provide. She could feel her hair frizzing, becoming wilder the longer she kept her face almost directly over her bubbling cauldron. She filled vial after vial trying to come up with the correct antidote, and when brushing her hair back off her face, her wand became tangled in her curls. She hissed under her breath and tugged it out, pulling with it some of her hair before she got back to work.

 

“Time is up!” Professor Slughorn announced much later which didn’t feel like enough time at all for Hermione. Her antidote wasn’t complete but she had fifty-two ingredients of it and when she looked around Slughorn and saw Harry and Ron standing at their table with nothing in front of them, she couldn’t hide the smug smile on her face. No longer would Harry be the top of the class, and Slughorn would see exactly what had been happening under his nose: that Harry had been cheating the entire year.

 

When Slughorn approached Harry and Ron, he took the whole class by surprise by laughing loudly. “You have some cheek, boy!” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and then held up what was in front of Harry on his desk. “A bezoar! I can’t fault you for that as it definitely is the antidote for these poisons!”

 

Hermione was seeing red as she glared at Harry. She knew that Harry couldn’t have known that fact off the top of his head and there  _ must  _ have been something written by the Prince that gave Harry the clue to use a bezoar. Hermione knew the usefulness of a bezoar, but the task hadn’t been to rummage around the storage room, it had been to  _ create _ an antidote. “You thought of a bezoar all by yourself, did you?” She asked Harry through gritted teeth.

 

Harry opened his mouth to answer but Slughorn cut him off. “A sign of a true potion-maker! You’re just like your mother, you are. Lily would be proud of your intuitive grasp on potions,” the Professor smiled widely and clapped Harry on the back again.

 

As Slughorn continued to praise Harry, Hermione looked around the room. She was glad to see that she wasn’t the only student that was annoyed by Harry’s success once more, but it was when she looked at Draco that she stopped glancing at everyone else. He had a stain on the front of his robes and shattered bits of glass on the table in front of him; Hermione figured he must have dropped his vials. He looked livid, just as angry as she felt too. His cheeks were flushed red and his eyes looked so dark, full of anger. The dark circles under his eyes made him look almost threatening as he glared at Harry. Hermione watched Draco’s eyes flit over to her direction and she kept her gaze with him. She quickly glanced around at the other students to make sure no one was looking at her before she mouthed, “ _ Wait for me _ .”

 

Draco looked away from her then but discreetly nodded his head once. The bell rang, indicating the end of class and the beginning of morning break. Hermione packed up her things and cleaned her area quickly. When she was done, her and Harry were the last ones in the class and as she head to the door, she completely ignored her friend and kept walking. She walked quickly through the dungeon corridors to get to Draco, but didn’t know where he could be. She knew for sure that he wouldn’t be waiting out in plain sight where anyone could see the both of them together. She held her Potions’ textbook tightly to her chest as she walked, but a tight grip on her arm made her let out a screech as she was tugged sidewards. Her heart raced from the sudden fright and she stared up at Draco who had dragged her behind a dusty old tapestry, into a small space that would fit perhaps four people at best. “You didn’t need to give me a heartattack, you could have just said my name,” she whispered to him.

 

“I know, but this was much more fun,” Draco responded with a tired smirk.

 

She held her breath for a few seconds before letting out a breathy laugh and shook her head. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself the day Draco’s emotions became predictable. She never knew what to expect from him when they spoke, but today it seemed that despite his haggard appearance, he was in alright spirits. At least with her. “I can’t believe Harry got away with a bezoar!” She complained, keeping her voice low in case any students passed by, which would be quite unusual seeing as though food was currently being served in the Great Hall.

 

“That pissed me off,” Draco agreed. “He can’t keep getting away with this. How did he even know to use a bezoar?”

 

Hermione opened her mouth, about to answer truthfully, but quickly remembered that despite her annoyance with Harry, she shouldn’t share a secret that could potentially put him in a lot of trouble. “I don’t know…” She sighed. “It was unfair. If he had followed Golpalott’s Law like we did, then--”

 

Her next words were muffled by Draco’s palm which he placed against her lips. Her eyes widened and she stared up at him, feeling her cheeks become hot. Her lips were pressed against the inside of his palm and his thumb was resting on her cheekbone, with his other long fingers spread across her cheek and jaw. She looked up at him though he didn’t have his eyes on her at all. Rather, he was looking at the tapestry and Hermione wanted to pull back from his touch to ask what on earth he was doing, but what she heard made everything make sense. She heard the thud of footsteps walking along the corridor and through the minescule gap between the tapestry and the wall, she saw Harry walk by and heard him grumbling under his breath. “What was that all about?” Draco asked quietly after a few moments until they were both sure Harry was out of the area.

 

Hermione took in a breath when Draco’s hand dropped from her mouth and she thanked Merlin for the low lighting in the tiny space they were in, as he wouldn’t be able to see the flush on her face. “I don’t know,” she admitted honestly. It didn’t occur to her at that time what reason Harry would need to stay back after class had finished. She brushed her hair back and grimaced as she felt that it was extremely frizzy and had grown in size from when class had first started. “How are you?” She asked slowly, breaching the subject carefully.

 

Draco looked away from the tapestry and towards her. “I’m…” He began. “I’m alright.”

 

She was surprised that he had answered her -- honestly, it seemed -- but didn’t show it. He didn’t need to see that his truthful answers invoked such a response from her. “You haven’t been in classes all week,” she said.

 

“I know,” he answered and she heard the biting edge to his voice that made her know to start retreating slowly.

 

“I was just worr-- wondering.” She fixed her mistake. She didn’t need him to know that she was worried over his well being. “I was just wondering why, is all, but you don’t need to say,” she said quickly. “Have you caught up on homework?” She asked and he shook his head. “Do you want to go to the Room tonight?” She asked, referring to their special place that the Room of Requirement had provided for them over the Christmas holidays.

 

“We have rounds,” he said and she surprised herself that she hadn’t remembered at all.

 

“Oh! We do,” she said. “Maybe before, then?” She suggested. “We could get dinner early from the kitchens.”

 

“It might be hard…” Draco said, looking at the wall behind her then.

 

Hermione’s hope dropped. “Right…” She mumbled. “You could just say that you don’t want to meet, that would be better,” she said, almost snappishly to him, and pushed the tapestry out of the way to get out into the corridor again. She was almost out of the dungeons when she heard the thuds of his footsteps behind her.

 

She turned around to see him come to a walk from jogging. “Before rounds,” was all he said. “I’ll be there after my last class.”

 

She didn’t say anything to him. She didn’t thank him or even acknowledge that she agreed. She simply looked at him and then turned around again, convincing herself that the feeling that had spiked in her stomach was purely due to hunger and not anything else.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione’s school day ended with a free period, meaning she finished classes earlier than some students in her year. She hadn’t spoken to Harry or Ron in their last class, Charms, so didn’t feel the need to make up a lie that she was going to the library. She wandered the halls until she was sure most students would be in class or in their common rooms if they had free periods too, and headed up to the seventh floor in the direction of the Room of Requirement. She paced quickly three times in front of the wall, thinking of her and Draco’s study room, and the door appeared. A glance up and down the corridor showed that she was safe to enter, so she slipped through the door and heard the wall seal up from the outside

 

She smiled and let out a sigh of content when she looked around the room. It had been a while since she’d been there, the last time being New Year’s Eve with Draco, a night she remembered fondly. The room was exactly how it had been that night and she walked over to the table to empty her book bag and begin completing her homework. Hermione didn’t normally see Draco during this free period, so figured he had a class he was attending. Sure enough, almost two hours later, he arrived in the room carrying his own bag. “I had Astronomy,” he told her as he came and sat at the table on the chair opposite her.

 

“How was that?” Hermione asked, looking up from the parchment in front of her.

  
He shrugged and began to pull out his own things. “Alright,” he said. “Just theory work, obviously.”

 

“I figured that,” she rolled her eyes. “It would be pretty hard to see the stars at this time.” She saw his lips quirk up slightly but he was still looking down at his things. “Do you need some help with any homework?” She asked him after a few minutes had passed and he hadn’t made any move to work.

 

“Why’s Potter so good at Potions?” He asked abruptly and Hermione’s quill paused halfway to her piece of parchment. She glanced up at Draco and saw him looking right at her. She had a feeling that he knew there was something she wasn’t telling him. He was a smart person, of course he was bound to figure it out. “When I sabotaged all three of your potions, you yelled at me since you said Potter was meant to think it was the book that was causing him to mess up,” he said and his eyes narrowed and she could see him reasoning everything inside his brain.

 

“I-- Well,” Hermione stumbled for words. There was no way that she could play dumb to that. She knew that he had her sussed out, and lying would do more harm than good. After a few moments she placed her quill down on the table and looked up at him, keeping firm eye contact. “Harry’s textbook is different to all of ours,” she explained. “When he got the second hand copy at the start of the year, he found that it was covered in writing from someone who owned the book last and wrote their own instructions.”

 

Draco scoffed. “And he copied what it said?” He asked incredulously. “What kind of idiot would copy some unknown recipe out of a book?”

 

“That’s what I thought!” Hermione agreed, but had to get back to her task. “The book used to be owned by the Half-Blood Prince, whoever that is,” she shook her head. “I’ve tried looking everywhere for some records of who it could be, but nothing’s jumping out at me.”

 

“He’s cheating,” Draco said, looking just as angry as he had done in class earlier that day. “He’s stumbled across those instructions which just happen to be right and now he’s better than the rest of us?”

 

“It’s unfair, I know, Draco, I’ve tried to take the book off of him,” Hermione said. “He practically sleeps with the thing,” she said and saw Draco grimace. “There’s spells in it, too,” she admitted. “I only know of him trying a couple, but I’m worried he’s going to cast one of the spells on someone and it’ll end up horribly wrong.”

 

“Spells?” Draco’s interest piqued even more so. “What ones has the book taught him already?”

 

“One to let him and whoever he wants talk in class without anyone overhearing, and one that dangles someone upside down in the air from their ankles,” Hermione spoke, angered even thinking that Harry would attempt such spells without knowledge on what they do first.

 

“Nothing more than that?” Draco pressed and Hermione shook her head, looking at him curiously.

 

“Why?” She asked.

 

He stared and then shook his head. “I just want to know what’s in the book,” he said. “Is there any way you can take it off him?” He asked.

 

She was rather shocked by the question. Of course, she had initially thought of trying to take the book without Harry’s knowledge, or tell Professor McGonagall about its existence so she could take it off him, but Hermione had never gone through with it. She knew that this far along, with Harry already have been doing so well in Potions for so long, he would get in more trouble for keeping the book a secret if she were to tell a Professor about it. “No,” she answered Draco. “He keeps it with him in the common room and there isn’t any way I can take it from him in class without it being blindingly obvious.”

 

Draco moved his own things aside so he could lean his elbows on the desk. “Would you help me get it off him?” He asked. “It’s unfair that he’s doing better than us in a class that the both of us should be at the top of.” Hermione stared at him and bit her bottom lip and looked down. Helping Draco would be betrayal to Harry. But was it really betrayal? Was it betrayal if she was only doing it for Harry’s own good? He should know how to properly brew the potions they were studying in class, and it was unfair that he was getting the credit for someone else’s work. The most appealing part of the invite, was that she would be top of the class again.

 

She bit down harder on her lip as she thought, mulling over what would be right and what would be wrong, and what repercussions would come about because of it. Finally, she knew what she wanted to do. “I’ll help you,” she said and saw him smirk. “But  _ only _ if you promise me a few things,” she added quickly. He nodded at her to go on. “You don’t take the book to any Professor to get Harry in trouble,” she said. “And you don’t use the book either. Get rid of it, throw it in the Black Lake or something; just don’t keep it.”

 

She watched him think for a few moments. She had a strong feeling that getting rid of the book wasn’t an issue for him and that the issue he struggled with was not getting Harry into trouble. She didn’t push him for an answer, but waited patiently. “Alright,” he said. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Granger.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione and Draco both left the Room of Requirement when they knew everyone would have left the Great Hall from eating dinner. Hermione left the room first, checking that the hallway was clear before she walked away quickly and was met up by Draco a minute later. “I’m going to put my things back in the common room,” he told her as they walked side by side.

 

“Alright,” she said with a small smile. The rest of their time in the room had been spent finishing up homework before Hermione announced she’d been too hungry to carry on. She’d quickly snuck to the kitchens and brought back a tray of food for them to eat, which they did while lounging on the couch, getting lost in talking about different books that they could read over and over and never tire from. She hadn’t been surprised to know that Draco didn’t recognise any of the Muggle books she spoke about, and his favourite books were written only by witches and wizards. “I’ll meet you in the Entrance Hall later,” she said to him as they neared the corridor where she would go to head to the Gryffindor common room.

 

“See you soon,” he farewelled and walked in the other direction. Just as she climbed through the portrait of the Fat Lady and walked into the comforting common room, she was stopped from going any further by Ginny who stepped in front of her.

 

“Where were you at dinner?” The redhead asked.

 

“I just had some extra work to finish for Professor McGonagall,” Hermione lied. It wasn’t  _ exactly _ a lie, as she certainly had done some Transfiguration homework, but that hadn’t been the reason she’d missed dinner in the Great Hall.

 

“You work too hard,” Ginny rolled her eyes and then gave her a slip of parchment. “I was told to give this to you as soon as I found you.”

 

“Thanks,” Hermione smiled and took the parchment, curious over who it was from and what it contained. She managed to contain her surprise when she saw the note was signed by Dumbledore, asking her to visit him in his office before her rounds started, and that her duties would be performed by another Prefect. “Looks like I’m off, again,” she told Ginny. “Do you mind taking my bag to my room?” She asked.

 

“Sure,” Ginny nodded and took her bag. “Is everything alright?” She asked.

 

Hermione could see the concern her friend had for her, so she gave Ginny a reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll see you soon,” she told her and then headed back out of the common room to make her way to Dumbledore’s office. As she made her way there, she hoped that whatever Prefect was filling in for her was a Slytherin so that Draco’s night wouldn’t end so terribly as it would if it had been a Gryffindor.

 

She arrived at the statue concealing the Headmaster’s office and spoke the password which had been written on the parchment she’d been given. Once she was up the spiral staircase, she knocked sharply on the heavy wooden door concealing the office from view. The door clicked open and she was met by Dumbledore sitting behind his desk. “Thank you for coming, Miss Granger,” he smiled and stood up. “Please, come sit,” he gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

 

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione smiled and walked in the room to take a seat. She straightened her skirt and then looked at the Headmaster.

 

“I know my note was rather vague,” the wizard chuckled. “I would simply like to have a chat to you about what has been happening since we last spoke.”

 

“About Draco?” Hermione asked.

 

“We can talk about Draco if you wish to,” Dumbledore nodded. “How is the boy?”

 

Hermione was rather taken aback by Dumbledore’s blas é  attitude towards talking about Draco. “H-He’s fine,” she spoke. “We spent more time together over the holidays and he really started to open up to me.”

 

Dumbledore smiled. “You do not know how much it pleases me to hear that, Miss Granger,” he said.

 

Hermione gave a small smile at that but couldn’t help but think about it. “Can I ask why?”

 

Dumbledore looked at her but kept his smile. “You can, but my answer isn’t at all interesting,” he said and Hermione knew he was brushing off her question. She nodded and stayed quiet and an air of silence passed over the room for several moments. “I take it that Harry has told you about his lessons with me?”

 

“Yes,” she nodded. “He has. Ron and I will help him in whatever way he needs,” she said.

 

“True friends,” Dumbledore nodded. “He is very lucky to have you.”

 

Hermione’s heart twisted with guilt as she thought of what she was planning to do with Draco about Harry and his potions textbook.  _ It’s for Harry’s own good _ , she thought to herself, justifying her actions. “Professor…” Hermione spoke after a while. “I’ve tried researching for Harry...on what a Horcrux is,” she said and watched Dumbledore look back at her, listening intently. “I can’t find any books on it in the library. Not even in the restricted section. I don’t know how else Harry’s meant to know what a Horcrux is.”

 

Dumbledore looked at her and then smiled and looked away, waving his hand towards one wall of the magnificent office which was covered by a bookshelf holding many, many books. “I do have quite a lot of books in my office, as you see,” he said. “Many I’ve collected from years ago. Some aren’t even made anymore…” He looked at his bookcase and then turned back to Hermione with a knowing smile. “I do find that a simple Accio charm helps me find the book I’m after when I’m in need, don’t you?”

 

Hermione was rather annoyed at how quickly Dumbledore changed the conversation from something so  _ important _ but his words sunk in. He was giving her help! He wasn’t helping explicitly, or telling Harry everything he needed to know, but he was giving clues. 

 

“I often wonder how I’d ever know if one of my books was taken without my knowledge,” Dumbledore chuckled and shook his head.

 

Hermione smiled and abruptly stood from her chair. “Sorry, Professor,” she apologised. “Do you--”

 

“You can go if you wish, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore nodded with a smile. “Thank you for coming to my office.”

 

“Thank you,” Hermione said breathlessly and turned around to head out of the office. As soon as her feet hit the stone floor of the third floor corridor, she took off running. She had to get back to the common room and to Harry. They were finally going to know about the Horcruxes.


	14. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me. 
> 
>  
> 
> oeuvre24 and I were talking and realized the chapters are going to take a bit longer now. So apologies for that. 
> 
> Poem mentioned is Le Voyage by Charles Baudelaire.

Hermione woke with a start Saturday morning. Her heart was pounding and she quickly discovered she was covered from head to toe in sweat. The last thing she could remember was seeing Harry dead on the ground in front of her.  _ A nightmare,  _ she told herself.  _ You just had a nightmare.  _ She brushed her bangs away from her face before letting her arms fall at her side. The dormitory was still dark which meant it was too early for her to get up and go anywhere, but there was no way she was going to be able to fall back asleep. 

 

With a resigned sigh, she peeled back the covers and slid on her slippers before tiptoeing out of the dormitory and down the stairs to the common room. She grabbed a blanket from one of the sofas and curled up on the couch. The fire roared to life as she lay there, getting lost in her own thoughts. She thought about the danger Harry was in, and she thought about the Horcruxes. She thought about Draco and how ill he had been looking lately. He was disappearing more frequently, he wasn’t talking to his housemates and quite frankly, she’d never seen someone look so defeated on a regular basis. 

 

She let herself drift in and out of sleep as her thoughts whirled in her head until the sun started peeking over the horizon, and the common room was bathed in a pink glow. Knowing the common room would soon be littered with fellow Gryffindors, she snuck back up to the dormitory to collect her clothes and get ready for the day ahead. 

 

Lavender and Padma were still sleeping when she went back upstairs, and for that she was grateful. She dressed quickly, determined to get down to breakfast by herself, and slung her bag over her shoulder. She had developed a long list of spells and other useful things she wanted to research in the library and was determined to get started as soon as possible. With the news of the Horcruxes, and a war looming over their heads, she felt it was wise to start preparing now. She wasn’t oblivious to the size of her classes dwindling by the week; parents were terrified and there were articles every other day reporting attacks and murders. 

 

With her mind feeling clogged, Hermione made her way down to the Great Hall, finding that she was just in time for the start of breakfast. No one else had arrived yet, save Professor Dumbledore, who waved at her from the Professor’s table. She waved hello and collected a few pieces of toast, but as she turned to a leave an idea popped into her mind. She turned around slowly to face Professor Dumbledore, who was smiling politely at her. Hermione approached the table quickly and bade him good morning. 

 

“Is it?” he responded. “I think it’s rather dreary.” 

 

Hermione looked up at the enchanted ceiling, and sure enough, dark clouds had moved in to cover the rising sun. It looked as though there was another stormy day ahead of them. 

 

“I suppose so, yes,” she said breathlessly. “Erm, Professor, there was something I wanted to ask you.” 

 

“Ask away, Miss Granger. Ask away,” Dumbledore said airily. 

 

“There were some...things I wanted to start researching. And, well, some of the content might only be available in the Restricted Section, which we need a pass for, and I was hoping--” she stopped mid-sentence as Professor Dumbledore pulled out a piece of parchment and scribbled on it with his wand. 

 

The old wizard smiled kindly at her as he handed her the slip of parchment. “I think you’ll find that will suffice.” 

 

Hermione read what he had written and nodded in approval. Madam Pince would never question a note written by the Headmaster himself. “Thank you, Professor.” 

 

Dumbledore smiled at her again as he bid her farewell and Hermione stuffed the note into her pocket and set off for the library. 

 

The Gryffindor team had Quidditch Practice today, which meant Hermione would have several hours of undisturbed research time in the library. The halls were slowly starting to fill with the first round of students heading down to breakfast as she made her way to the library. She slipped through the heavy doors, breathing in the smell of old books and fresh parchment. She said hello to Madam Pince before settling down at her usual table. She got out a fresh roll of parchment, a new quill and a fresh ink pot before picking up her pass from Professor Dumbledore to show Madam Pince. 

 

The librarian’s eyes grew wide as she read over Hermione’s pass but didn’t question her. Hermione thanked the older witch and set off towards the Restricted Section. Her first task would be to see if there were any books on advanced defensive magic, something Hermione knew she would need to brush up on. She had nearly arrived to the Restricted Section when she heard the all too familiar voice of Pansy Parkinson somewhere to her right. 

 

Hermione stopped dead in her footsteps. She’d only known Pansy to use that whiny tone of voice on one person: Draco. And sure enough, it was Draco she could hear talking back. 

 

“Stop asking me questions!” he snapped. “It’s none of your business, how many times do I have to tell you that?” 

 

She heard Pansy sniffle and Hermione rolled her eyes. “There’s no need to be an arse about it.” 

 

Draco must not have found her comment worthy of a response as he remained silent, until Pansy continued to press him. “Why didn’t you come home for Christmas? I was hoping to see you over break…” 

 

Hermione’s stomach churned at the sultry undertone to Pansy’s voice. Her blood was starting to boil. She couldn’t see them and she wouldn’t dare shift some books just to sneak a view. Her lack of view was only making this worse, as she couldn’t see what Pansy was doing, and her heart was pounding in her chest as she waited with bated breath for Draco’s response. What exactly would he say about his holiday? 

 

“Have you forgotten who’s living in my house?” Draco retorted angrily. 

 

Pansy fell silent at that and even Hermione found herself at a loss for words. Did that mean what she thought it meant? 

 

“I forgot, I--” Pansy stammered as Hermione stood hidden by bookcases, her mouth hanging open. She’d never heard Pansy sound so apologetic before. 

 

“Lucky you,” Draco said quietly. 

 

“But that means…” There was a loud thud followed by an ouch from Draco and mumbled cursing. “You left your Mother there then!” 

 

Draco didn’t respond to this; Pansy must have known she hit a nerve because when she spoke next her voice had adopted a softer tone. “Did you manage to have a good Christmas at least?” Pansy asked. 

 

Draco paused. “It was alright, yeah.” 

 

Hermione smiled down at the stone ground. She could practically hear the smile in his voice. At least he had enjoyed their time together as much as she had. 

 

“Why are you smirking?” Pansy asked, sounding annoyed. 

 

“Why are you asking so many questions? Don’t you have work to do or something?” And with that, Hermione could hear the sound of retreating footsteps. Pansy’s sputters of disbelief followed soon after as she followed Draco away from where she stood. 

 

Hermione waited until their footsteps faded to enter the Restricted Section, her thoughts now distracted by the way Pansy had been talking to Draco -- that whiny, flirtatious, pitiful tone that just grated her brain like nails on a chalkboard. To make matters worse, she hadn’t been able to see a thing, and just the thought of Pansy touching Draco made her want to disfigure that smug face like she’d done to Marietta the year before. 

 

_ At least Draco brushed her off,  _ she reminded herself as she mindlessly searched the tomes before her.  _ And he’d said he’d had a good Christmas.  _ Though this thought cheered her up slightly, she tried to convince herself that none of it should matter. She shouldn’t care that Pansy was such a concerned friend, and she shouldn’t care if Draco had enjoyed their time spent together.  _ He’s Harry’s enemy. They hate each other,  _ she scolded herself silently. But did she care? She was allowed to have her own friends! They could have other friends besides each other. 

 

When she realized she’d walked around the Restricted Section three times, she pulled herself away from her thoughts and forced herself to focus on the faded and stained spines in front of her.  _ You have a job to do, Hermione.  _

 

* * *

 

 

Miraculously, Hermione managed to accomplish a decent amount of research after the conversation she’d overheard. She’d spent at least ten minutes scolding herself for getting distracted. She was supposed to be helping Harry after all. 

 

With a list of wards and other defensive spells to practice, Hermione felt slightly more cheerful as she left the library close to lunch time. It felt like she was finally getting somewhere, and all Hermione had to do now was find an appropriate time to summon that book from Dumbledore’s office. She practically raced to the Great Hall to tell Harry of the news, so long as he had already turned up for lunch.  _ Quidditch Practice should be over by now,  _ she thought. 

 

When she finally entered the Great Hall she was pleased to see the familiar tuft of unruly black hair sitting at the Gryffindor table, Ron was nowhere in sight, and as she grew closer she noticed Harry watching Ginny and Dean talk quietly further down the table. Hermione shook her head; she felt sorry for Harry. He and Ginny never could seem to get the timing right...and there was the slight problem that she was Ron’s sister. 

 

“Hey,” Hermione said brightly as she sat down next to her best friend. 

 

Harry greeted her with a distracted smile, his gaze still on Ginny, who was now laughing at whatever Dean had just said. 

 

“Harry,” Hermione said sternly and cleared her throat. She shoved him the list of spells she had copied down over the past few hours. 

 

He looked down at it, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion. “I don’t understand.” 

 

Hermione sighed and pulled the list to her. “It’s a list of defensive spells. I’m going to practice them. You know, for preparation. Wards and such.” 

 

Harry’s eyes grew wide as he stared down at the list again. “Brilliant,” he said. “You are the best, Hermione. Really.” 

She beamed at Harry and at that precise moment, her eyes caught sight of white blonde hair. She averted her gaze from Harry just in time to see Draco bustling down the row between tables. When she looked back at her best friend, guilt settled into her stomach as she remembered the plan she and Draco had come up with.  _ This already makes up for that,  _ she told herself. Because really, both things were for his own good. 

* * *

 

The remainder of the weekend passed uneventfully for Hermione. She didn’t see Draco for the rest of the day on Saturday, and she had spent the majority of the day down at Hagrid’s hut with Harry. Monday arrived quickly, casting blinding rays of sun over the castle grounds. It was still bitterly cold, and she was quite thankful they did not have Herbology. 

 

When she didn’t see Draco at breakfast, her hopes fell.  _ Would he even turn up for Ancient Runes?  _ Harry had asked her if she was alright while Ron completely ignored her, and Hermione had managed to brush off her concerned best friend. The three of them left the Great Hall together and Hermione waved good-bye to Harry as she set off for her first class of the day. 

 

Hermione tuned out the incessant chatter around her, pushing her way past students who felt the need to stop in the middle of the corridor. She kept her head down and her arms wrapped around the books she was clutching to her chest. She had been in good mood when she woke up that morning, eager to get on with a day filled with learning, but her spirits had fallen at the sight of the Slytherin table without that familiar head of blonde hair. 

 

So it was quite the surprise when Hermione entered the classroom and looked up to see Draco sitting at his usual seat in the back. Hermione didn’t hesitate as her footsteps lead her to his table. He watched her make her way over, but his expression was unreadable. It always seemed to be a guessing game with him; a game she was clearly not growing tired of. 

 

“Good morning,” she said briskly, sitting down beside him. 

 

He mumbled something she couldn’t make out as he pulled his textbook towards him. 

 

“You weren’t at breakfast this morning,” she said slowly. “Everything alright?” 

 

Draco shrugged. “I wasn’t hungry this morning.” 

 

Hermione pursed her lips but didn’t press him. There was a stabbing pain in her chest as she remembered the conversation she’d overheard in the library. Pansy already knew more than she did, and all because they were in the same social circle. 

 

Professor Babbling told them they would partner up today and work on some translations from chapter seven. Hermione was thankful she’d chosen to sit next to Draco today, as at least that would give them a chance to talk, but before they could get to work, their Professor approached their table. “Mister Malfoy,” she addressed sternly. Hermione kept her gaze down at her textbook. “May I speak to you out in the hall for a moment?” 

 

There was a loud scraping sound as Draco rose quickly from his chair and strode out behind Professor Babbling. The door shut behind them and Hermione couldn’t stop staring at it. Why had she wanted to talk to Draco privately? The other students hadn’t noticed the absence of their Professor and fellow classmate, as they were discussing Runes quietly. 

 

It wasn’t long before Professor Babbling returned with Draco on her tail. As he grew closer, Hermione saw that he looked positively livid. He shoved his chair back angrily before sitting down. His hands were clenched tightly into fists and she could practically hear his teeth grinding together. 

 

“What happened?” she asked. 

 

“I’ve got detention for the next two weeks,” he said through gritted teeth. “All because I missed a homework assignment.” 

 

“But I thought you were caught up on your homework?” she said. 

 

He didn’t look directly at her and she wondered if he was worried she would reprimand him. “I may have fallen behind again.” 

 

“It’s the second week of classes, Draco!” she whispered. 

 

Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes vigorously. “Can we just focus on this assignment please?” 

 

Hermione’s mouth snapped shut at his pleading tone. She felt guilty for nagging him, but she was worried, and clearly, she had good reasons to be. They’d just started their second week of classes and already he was behind on work and it seemed the Professors were growing tired of this behavior. 

 

She fetched a fresh roll of parchment from her bag and opened her textbook to chapter seven. Draco was already flipping through pages of Spellman’s Syllabary, and without another mention of missed meals and incomplete homework, they set to work. 

 

* * *

 

 

Despite her homework beginning to pile up again, Hermione was having a pretty good day. Draco, on the other hand, did not seem to be. All during their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, Snape stared down Draco and told him to remain behind after class was dismissed. Hermione waited outside the classroom for twenty-minutes, pacing up and down the corridor, but when Draco emerged, he had stormed right past her, as though he hadn’t seen her at all. 

 

She wanted to try and find him during her break, but she had too much homework she needed to get started on. After worrying about him for forty-five minutes while trying to start her Runes homework, she set off for double Arithmancy. Draco had shown up, but had gotten scolded by Professor Vector for falling asleep in class. 

 

Hermione had watched with an empathetic look on her face as he left with sagging shoulders and a stoic expression. She wasn’t going to let him slip away this time. Not after the day he was having. Hermione kept her eyes fixed on his retreating back as students hustled by her on their way to their next class. Her stomach was growling but lunch could wait. She wanted to call after him but there were far too many people around. 

 

He was turning left now as Hermione picked up her pace. The halls were beginning to clear now as students filtered into the classrooms. She had broken into a run now, determined to catch up with him. 

 

“Draco!” she shouted once she was a few feet behind him. 

 

He stopped in his tracks. The corridor was empty except for them. He turned around slowly as she closed the distance between them. Her breathing was ragged as she pushed her hair out of her face. 

 

“Meet me in the room later?” she asked. “After Potions?” 

 

Draco nodded before turning around and stalking down the corridor, leaving Hermione to stare after him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Potions was going the same as it always did. Harry consulted his book despite her constant disapproval and Draco looked as annoyed as he always did during this class. Hermione worked diligently on the Potion bubbling in her cauldron and she was determined to give her sole attention to the task at hand. The only downside to her hard work was her hair tripling in size and frizz. She huffed impatiently as she tried to tame her unruly hair. 

 

She heard an obnoxiously loud snicker to her left and when she looked up, she saw that Pansy was looking right at her. “My Gods, Granger, has that thing taken on a life of its own?” the Slytherin giggled, looking around the room for support. 

 

Hermione let out a low growl of frustration and just as she was about to retort, another familiar voice spoke up. “Gods, Pansy will you shut up already?” Draco snapped irritably from her left. 

Hermione’s gaze flickered to Draco, who looked at her briefly before glaring down at Pansy. Blaise and Theo were shooting him curious looks from the table behind them. Pansy looked hurt for a moment before she narrowed her eyes at the blonde. 

 

“What has gotten into you?” she hissed so quietly Hermione was amazed she’d been able to hear it. 

 

“Nothing,” Draco said quickly. “Maybe I’m just sick of hearing you make fun of people. It’s gotten a bit old, don’t you think?” 

 

Pansy looked as though this pastime of theirs had certainly not grown old for her. Hermione watched as Pansy studied Draco with scrutiny, as if she were trying to find where the Draco she knew had gone, but all fell quiet as the seconds passed and Pansy remained silent. Hermione turned back to her work and felt her cheeks burn. Draco had stuck up for her...sort of. Though she would have preferred that it hadn’t happened in front of the entire class. 

 

The rest of the period passed in silence, except for the occasional slip of foul language when someone messed up their potion. Every so often she would glance over at Draco, who looked tense standing next to Pansy. The two hadn’t spoken since their little incident. When the bell rang and Slughorn gave them their homework, Hermione packed up her bag and followed Harry and Ron out of the dungeons. 

 

As they were walking up towards the Entrance Hall, the group of Slytherins passed them, with Draco in the lead. Pansy was fighting to keep up with him. “You’re not the same anymore Draco!” she heard Pansy shout as Draco picked up speed. 

 

Harry stopped to watch Draco stride past them. He didn’t even glance over at her as he passed, though she didn’t expect him to. Pansy practically ran past them while Blaise and Theo picked up their speed, murmuring to one another. 

 

“Apparently I’m not the only one who’s noticed Draco’s been acting strange, then,” Harry said grimly. 

 

“Harry, please,” she begged, tugging on his arm. “Don’t get started on this again.” 

 

“Yeah, mate,” Ron said. “There’s really no need to--”

 

“Oh come on!” Harry said exasperated. “Neither of you can deny that he’s up to something!” 

 

Hermione fell silent. Harry was right. She couldn’t deny that Draco was up to something, because she knew that he was. Ron shook his head and muttered to himself as he started to walk away, urging Harry to come with him. Harry looked frustrated with the pair of them as he begrudgingly followed Ron up the stairs of the Grand Staircase. Hermione felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She cleared her throat and set off towards the seventh floor corridor to meet Draco. 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco was leaning against the wall when she arrived almost fifteen minutes later. He smiled at her warily as she approached. Hermione shot him a sympathetic smile while trying to hide her own frustration. 

 

“Ready?” he asked. 

 

She nodded and stood back as he paced in front of the wall. She wondered how many times he did this; paced up and down this stretch of wall. A few seconds later the door appeared and Draco held it open for her like he always did. 

 

Once inside, they tossed their bags on the floor and simultaneously plopped down on the sofa. Draco let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Hermione wanted to say something, anything, really, but everything that popped into her mind sounded ridiculous or cliche.  He’d had such a tough day, but there wasn’t anything she could say to make him feel better. Instead she reached for his hand and squeezed it gently within her grasp. 

 

She was already looking at him when he opened his eyes to look at her. He looked surprised, and although she felt the muscles in his hand tighten, he didn’t let go. A warmth had started to spread down her fingertips to the rest of her body. She rubbed her thumb back and forth against the back of his hand, studying the scars on his knuckles. 

 

“It’s been a rough day,” she said, her voice hoarse from not speaking. 

 

“I think rough is a bit of an understatement,” he replied dryly. 

 

Hermione didn’t want to press him too much, so she switched topics. “Thank you for shutting Pansy up in Potions earlier.” 

 

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. “She’s been getting on my nerves lately anyway,” he sighed heavily and looked down at their hands again, his gaze becoming transfixed on the movement of her thumb. “She really ticked me off the other day actually.” 

 

“What happened?” she asked, even though she had a feeling she knew where this was going. 

 

She could hear the hesitation in his voice when he spoke, and she knew he was second-guessing if this was the best idea. “I should have gone home for Christmas.” 

 

Hermione inhaled sharply. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, especially when his words stung a bit. 

 

“It’s not a pleasant place to be right now. There’s--I just shouldn’t have left her alone, that’s all,” he said, the words practically pouring out of his mouth, each one coated with guilt. 

 

“Draco,” she began warily. “That’s not...Don’t put that blame on yourself,” she finished. “We’re just kids.” 

 

He scoffed. “No one else seems to realize that.” 

 

Hermione let out a mournful chuckle. “No, they don’t, do they?” 

 

Their hands were still latched together, her thumb still tracing circles on his skin and once again, his gaze landed on the slow movements. When he started to mimic her motions with his thumb on her hand, her stomach did a flip and she hoped Draco wasn’t able to see the heat that had rushed to her cheeks. 

 

She had no idea how long they sat like that; holding hands, not speaking, lost in their own thoughts. She could hear Draco’s slow, deep breaths next to her. His eyes were closed again with his head resting against the back of the sofa. She couldn’t help but think his cheeks looked like snow covered plains. And she thought he was asleep, until he peaked at her out of one and tilted his head. 

 

“Who was that other poet you said you liked? The French one?” he asked, sounding tired. “Charles something?” 

 

Hermione bit her lip in attempts to stifle her smile. He remembered something that she liked? “Charles Baudelaire,” she answered. “Why do you ask?” 

 

He swallowed and she watched his Adam’s apple slide down his throat and back up as he did so. She could see the blonde stubble covering the bottom of his chin, descending towards his throat. 

 

“I’ve never heard his poems before,” he said, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. He opened his eyes and smiled at her warily, silently pleading with her. 

 

Hermione nodded in understanding and let go of his hand before standing up. She made her way over to the large bookcase and rummaged through the titles, wondering if there was even one of his books already here. It wasn’t until she got to the bottom shelf that she found a copy of  _ Fleurs du mal.  _ Hermione returned to the couch, sat down and flipped through the pages until she found one of her favorites. 

 

“Do you speak French?” she asked. 

 

Draco nodded. “Mother insisted I know it. I studied it before Hogwarts.” 

 

“Right,” she said. She cleared her throat and nestled into her spot, fully aware that their sides were now pressed against one another. “This one is called  _ Le Voyage.”  _

 

She looked over at Draco, but his eyes were still closed. He seemed to sense her looking at him as he nodded once, gesturing for her to begin. 

 

“Pour l’enfant, amoureux  de cartes et d’estampes, L’univers est ègal à son vaste appètit…”

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you know what we haven’t discussed yet?” Hermione asked later that evening as they walked their rounds. They were on the fourth floor and all had been silent so far. Hermione enjoyed these nights; when her fellow students actually behaved and she and Draco could just talk. She walked with a smile on her face and a lightness in her chest that she hadn’t felt in months. 

 

After hiding out in the Room of Requirement earlier and reading to herself while Draco napped for a bit, they had stopped at the kitchens for a quick bite to eat before leaving for the Grand Staircase separately to arrive for rounds. It’d been a pleasant evening; something she hadn’t had for a while, and she had the feeling that Draco hadn’t either. 

 

“What’s that?” he asked. 

 

She looked around the corridor to check that they were completely alone. When all looked clear, she leaned in closer and whispered, “How we’re going to steal that book.” 

 

Draco perked up at once. He too glanced around the corridor as they walked. “It’s not going to be easy,” he murmured, his lips barely moving. “Especially if he’s as obsessed with it as you said he is.” 

 

Hermione grit her teeth, recalling how often she’d seen Harry take that book everywhere. Godric, it drove her up a wall! She sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair. “This is impossible isn’t it?” she said meekly. 

 

“No,” Draco said firmly. “There’s always a way.” 

 

The determination in his eyes unnerved her a bit. Of course she was glad Draco was willing to help her get rid of it, but she found it odd how eager he seemed to be about this non-existent plan. She looked at him curiously, but he avoided looking directly at her. 

“Perhaps,” she said, breaking her gaze from his profile. “Or perhaps not.” 

 

Draco stopped her in their tracks, his hand gripping her arm tightly. She yelped and swatted him with her free arm. “Careful!” 

 

He loosened his grip immediately as he stared at her with a fierceness in his eyes she’d never seen before. “Trust me,” he growled. “We will get that book.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione returned to the common room an hour later, feeling uneasy. Her thoughts felt jumbled. She felt blocked up. As soon as she walked in, Harry was in front of her, looking worried. 

 

“Where have you been?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you since Potions.” 

 

“Hm?” she said, shaking the image of Draco’s face during rounds from her mind. “Oh, I was in the library for a while and then I stopped by McGonagall’s office for a bit.” 

 

Harry stared at her, studying her for any signs that she was lying. She stared back at him, hoping he couldn’t see the guilt she was currently pushing down. She was going to steal from her best friend. And his enemy was assisting her. “I don’t feel well, Harry. I’m going to head to bed,” she said, giving him a small smile. 

 

Harry simply stood there as she walked past him and climbed the stairs to her bed, where she could finally lay down, draw her curtains, and hope for sleep to steal her away. 


	15. Tangled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by the lovely oeuvre24! 
> 
> I enjoyed beta'ing this chapter, so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! And don't forget, oeuvre24 is posting on her ff.net account! 
> 
> Thank you guys always for the follows, faves and reviews!

 

After a night of tossing and turning, falling asleep well past one in the morning, and ending by waking up almost two hours before breakfast would be served in the Great Hall, Hermione was exhausted. Her mind had felt so full when she had attempted to fall asleep, and her thoughts didn’t calm the entire night. She freshened up for the morning, but not even splashing her face with cold water seemed to make her more alert, and then put on her uniform and tied her hair back in a messy ponytail. She couldn’t care less about the looks Lavender and Parvati gave to her hair when she emerged from the bathroom, and left the dormitory to go down to breakfast.

 

It didn’t surprise her that Harry and Ron weren’t in the common room when she went downstairs, and she didn’t let it bother her that when they arrived fifteen minutes before breakfast would be over, they didn’t even look her way, too busy speaking to each other quietly, and walked right past where she was sitting. Hermione had stood up then and hauled her bag onto her shoulder, ready to go to Herbology. 

 

As she got to the large doors of the Great Hall, she stood to the side when a group of students walked through first. She didn’t realise who they were until she heard the smug laughter of Pansy Parkinson, and when Hermione looked at her and the rest of the small group of Slytherins, she saw them all looking at her hair, sniggering away. All of them except Draco, who pushed in between Nott and Zabini glaring angrily at them, and walked to the Slytherin table, leaving his friends behind.

 

No matter how many times she got stared at or laughed at due to her appearance, it didn’t make the comments any lighter on her shoulders. Hermione straightened her shoulders, trying to display the confidence she had that was faltering, and walked past her fellow sixth years and left the Great Hall.

 

Walking to the greenhouses for her Herbology double, she convinced herself that her eyes were stinging and watering from the cold wind hitting her face, and not because of the cruel looks that she’d been given before.

 

* * *

 

Hermione discovered that trying to concentrate in Herbology was exceedingly difficult when one had a lack of sleep the night previous. She found herself struggling to pay attention to every word Professor Sprout spoke, and had to force herself to sit up straight with her hands on her thighs to resist the urge to lean against the table and let her eyelids slip shut. Her exhaustion was so out of character for her, that even Harry -- who had chosen to sit at the same table as her, with Ron following him -- leaned over and whispered, asking if she was alright. She nodded and didn’t speak, not wanting to interrupt Professor Sprout who was busy asking a question of the class, which thankfully, Neville answered.

 

When the bell rang, indicating the start of the next period, the Professor asked everyone to take a potted plant from the front of the greenhouse, which they were to use their knowledge on that particular plant species, to trim its leaves and best arrange its flower stems for its optimum speedy growth. Hermione was glad she had managed to listen to Professor Sprout’s explanation of the plant and how to properly care for it, so wasn’t too stressed about performing the task asked of them all.

 

The class continued on and Hermione’s tiredness came back in full force. Her eyes felt like they were gluing shut with every blink she made, and her lack of concentration was taken advantage of by the plant. When Hermione moved her hand to trim back a leaf, one of the stems wrapped tightly around her wrist and she hadn’t reacted quickly enough to move away in time. Her teeth grated together after she let out a yell of pain from the plant wrapping tighter and tighter around her wrist which alerted Harry to get Professor Sprout to come to her aid immediately.

 

The rest of the class watched on as the Professor used a quick spell to release Hermione’s wrist from the plant’s grasp. Hermione stared at her wrist which was red raw with painful irritation, and beginning to yellow from bruising. The red irritation was quick to spread onto the back of her palm and down her fingers, making even the slightest bit of breeze pain her skin, feeling like it had been burnt raw. With tears in her eyes, Hermione followed Professor Sprout’s advice of going to the infirmary, and she almost ran from the greenhouse.

 

Hermione let the tears from her eyes fall then in a mixture of pain, embarrassment and frustration. How could she have been so careless? The mistake was all hers and purely because she wasn’t concentrating enough, which was not like her. Thankfully, the majority of students in the castle had classes, so she didn’t run into anyone on her dash to the infirmary, still clutching her painful and irritated hand to her chest.

 

When she reached the doors of the infirmary, she stopped, and used her good hand to wipe away her tears, and took a few seconds to calm down her breathing. She knew that crying wasn’t a weakness, but it seemed that she had been doing it much more often than what was normal for her. After she composed herself, she pushed her shoulder into the swinging door to open it up, and after she explained the situation to Madam Pomfrey, was instructed to sit down on one of the beds.

 

* * *

 

After a few quick spells and a drop of two different healing potions on her skin, Hermione’s hand and wrist were wrapped in a bandage and she was sent on her way. She had missed the end of Herbology and morning break, and was running slightly late for Ancient Runes. She rushed through the corridors and praised herself for packing her Ancient Runes books and work into her book bag which saved her having to run to her dormitory and back to the classroom.

 

The class was silent when Hermione pushed open the door and entered. She made her way to the front of the class and quietly told Professor Babbling of her incident in Herbology, and her lateness was excused and she was told what they were completing in class. Hermione appreciated the fact that the students in her Ancient Runes class were driven by their work and couldn’t have cared less if a student walked in late, so Hermione returned to the back of the classroom without the stares which would have occurred had it happened in any other class.

 

Instead of sitting by herself, Hermione made her way to Draco’s table and sat down next to him. He hadn’t seemed to have notice her walking his way, because he turned to look at her with a surprised expression. She gave him a tiny smile and started taking her books out with her good hand, grateful that the plant hadn’t attacked her writing hand. She opened her textbook and begin to read what she was assigned, and took notes on a piece of parchment. She heard Draco scribbling something on his own piece of parchment, and then her page was blocked when he placed said bit of parchment on her textbook.

 

_ What happened?  _ He had written.

 

She felt his eyes on her as she moved her quill over to write her reply.  _ A plant stem caught my wrist in Herbology. _

 

He was just as quick to write back.  _ What did it do? _

 

She eyed the words and then looked at him with a smile and tried to contain a small laugh.  _ Interested in my pain? _ She wrote jokingly, and gave him a smile to assure him that she didn’t mean it seriously. She saw his lips quirk into a smirk and then he nodded at the parchment to get her to keep writing.  _ It burnt the skin of my wrist and the top of my hand and fingers and caused some bruising where it grabbed me. Nothing some potions and spells couldn’t fix. _

 

He nodded and moved his quill over once more.  _ Can we go to the Room after class? I have something important to tell you. Not here. _

 

Hermione’s curiosity piqued at his statement and instead of writing back, she nodded at him. He took the parchment and screwed it into a ball and leaned back on his chair. Hermione wondered what he was doing until he cocked his arm forward and tossed the ball of parchment into the wastepaper bin by the door. She saw the smug look on his face when he resumed his normal sitting position and she rolled her eyes. “Ten points to Slytherin,” she whispered to him jokingly and he lifted his hand to his mouth to smother any sound of an impending laugh, and she looked back down at her work with a grin.

 

* * *

 

When Professor Babbling dismissed the class at the end of the period, Hermione quickly told Draco that she would go to her common room before joining him in the Room to make sure no-one saw them going together. She went her usual way to the seventh floor whilst Draco turned the opposite direction, taking the stairs at the other end of the castle.

 

Her trip to the Gryffindor tower was a quick one and she rushed up the stairs to her dormitory to empty her school bag of her morning textbooks and work, replacing them with the things she’d need for her afternoon classes. Luck was on her side as she left the dormitory and went back through the common room without spotting any other sixth year student, and she left the common room and headed in the direction of the Room of Requirement. When she got to the stretch of wall where the Room of Requirement was hidden, her thoughts were purely on her and Draco’s Room, and a few seconds later, the door appeared and she entered.

 

Draco was standing when the door opened and Hermione greeted him with a small wave and closed the door behind her. “Have you been here long?” She asked.

 

“No, I came straight from class,” he said and then sat on the couch, his legs sprawled out in front of him. It was then, from her vantage point watching him, that she realised just how long he was, even sitting down.

 

She shook her head slightly and walked over to him, dropping her bag on the floor by the corner of the couch. She slipped off her shoes before sitting down on the couch with him. “So what is it that you wanted to tell me?” She asked. She had been hoping, ever since he’d asked her to meet him in the Room, that he was going to divulge in more personal matters and open up to her a bit more.

 

That didn’t seem to be the case once he responded. “I’ve figured out a way to get the book off Potter.”

 

Hermione hadn’t forgotten about her and Draco’s little mission with the Potion’s book, but she hadn’t been thinking of ways to try and get it from her best friend. There wasn’t any possible way she could take it from him at breakfast or dinner, and he kept it too close to his side whenever they were in the common room. Her physically taking the book from Harry would be like her signing a contract to terminate their friendship. She almost felt guilty about devising a plan with Draco, but had to continue to solidify in her mind that they were doing the right thing by Harry’s way -- giving him the opportunity to learn Potions just like the rest of them, so he would be prepared for his examinations.

 

“Are you chickening out?” Draco asked her when she didn’t respond to his question.

 

“No, no,” Hermione quickly assured him. “What’s your plan?” She asked.

 

He twisted on the sofa, leaning towards her a bit, and her brows furrowed in confusion until she saw his hand reach into his back pocket and pull out a piece of paper. He handed it to her and she unfolded it, and became surprised at what she saw. “An order form,” she commented, seeing the emblem of Flourish and Blotts at the top of the parchment, with the form underneath it. “You’re going to order another book?”

 

Draco smirked and nodded. “We’ll buy another copy of Advanced Potion-Making and take the cover off, then find a way to take the cover off Potter’s copy and switch the insides.”

 

Hermione had to admit, it was a good plan. “There’s only one issue, though,” she said. “How are we meant to get a chance to swap the covers?” She asked. “That means he needs to be away from the book and that never happens.”

 

Draco’s smirk grew and was reminiscent of his younger self, but Hermione found that she didn’t recoil or feel the surge of anger towards him when he did so. Instead she found it...oddly endearing. “In class,” he answered her question. “You need to find a way to get Potter and Weasley away from the workbench and I’ll quickly go over and switch them.”

 

Her lips formed a smile. He really had thought of everything. “And if your housemates see?” She asked.

 

“I’ll tell them I’m going to ruin Potter’s potion,” he said. “They won’t be able to see what I’m doing and his potion will be ruined when he realises he doesn’t have his proper copy.”

 

“That’s brilliant, Draco,” she told him, “I honestly hadn’t thought of doing that,” she said. “We just need to hope that Harry’s not going to immediately accuse you or another Slytherin.”

 

Draco furrowed his brows in thought. “What if we do it at the end of class then?” He asked. “He won’t look in his book once we’re finished, so he won’t find out until next lesson.”

 

“Or when he looks at it later in the day.”

 

“That too.”

 

Hermione smiled and pulled her legs onto the couch and fixed her skirt to cover her thighs properly. “I think it will work,” she said.

 

“I  _ know _ it will work,” he drawled.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Hermione’s morning consisted of uneventful classes, filled with copious amounts of written work and even more homework to be completed. She had sat with Draco in the back of their Arithmancy classroom in the morning, but the class was so silent that even if they had wanted to talk, they would have been heard by everyone else. Not only that, but the concepts they were learning, were so advanced and complicated that Hermione wanted to listen to be able to fully understand everything that Professor Vector taught them.

 

Draco had split off from her after class with the agreement to meet her in the library halfway through lunch, and Hermione ended up spending her morning break with Harry who was left by himself when Lavender pulled Ron out of the Great Hall. Hermione had tried to talk to Harry and ask if he had made any progress trying to retrieve Slughorn’s memory, but her best friend looked more tired than usual, and became even more irritable when Ginny walked into the hall hand in hand with Dean Thomas.

 

Hermione hadn’t really minded that Harry had been silent throughout their morning break and on the walk to Transfiguration for their double period, and she didn’t feel as hurt as she thought she would when Ron made Harry sit with him at the back of the class, both of them knowing well that Hermione preferred to sit at the front. She reasoned that their immature behaviour had been happening far too often for her to keep getting upset about, and that it was a good thing being by herself anyway, as she could concentrate much better on classwork. Despite knowing what Professor McGonagall thought of Draco, which still made Hermione quite angry, she answered all of the teacher’s questions posed to the class, and by the time lunch came around, had gained fifteen points for Gryffindor.

 

In the Great Hall, she had quickly eaten a sandwich and had some pumpkin juice, knowing that Draco would be meeting her in the library halfway through their lunch break. They were getting better at coordinating times to meet up despite the castle being full of students, and they were managing quite well to replicate their quiet days they’d spent together and studied in during the Christmas holidays. Just before lunch was halfway finished, Hermione left the table and gave a smile to Ginny who looked at her curiously but then smiled, seeing that Hermione was fine. Luckily, Hermione knew that Ginny, Harry or even Ron, would wonder where she disappeared to, as she had been making a habit of going to the library at every opportune moment ever since she had started Hogwarts six years previous. It also meant that there was almost no chance that any of them would come to the library trying to find her, and stumble across her studying with Draco.

 

Sure enough, when Hermione reached her usual table at the back of the library, she saw Draco already sitting there with his work strewn across his side of the table. His back was to her, so he didn’t see her approach, but she cleared her throat slightly before she did, as not to startle him. “You didn’t have any lunch?” She asked as she sat on the other side of the table.

 

Draco looked up from the parchment he was writing upon and Hermione couldn’t help but look at the paragraphs of his elegant handwriting. “I got something from the kitchens before lunch,” he told her. “I didn’t have any classes.”

 

“It’s good that you ate something,” she commented, and she truly was glad that he was beginning to eat more often. She knew that on the days that he properly ate meals, he looked less pale and sickly. She used her good hand to take out her Ancient Runes work, which she wanted to get over and done with so she had more time to concentrate on the difficult Transfiguration essay that McGonagall had assigned the class. Her left hand was still bandaged up from her incident in Herbology the day before, but thankfully, the skin underneath wasn’t stinging as badly as it had come to be the night previous when she had gotten into bed. It had been so bad that she had donned her school robe over her pyjamas and made her way to the infirmary to get a few drops of healing potion on her skin, and to get her hand re-bandaged. “What are you working on?” She asked.

 

“Astronomy,” Draco answered, looking back down at his essay. “It’s due after lunch so I need to hurry,” he said and picked his quill back up.

 

“I won’t say another word,” Hermione assured him and let him get on with his work. She got her own quill out and outlined a rough draft of her essay before she began to write it.

 

It hadn’t seemed like long before the bell rang, indicating the end of lunch. Hermione looked up at Draco and saw him start to gather all of his things, putting them back in his book bag carefully. He didn’t say a word to her until he stood up and slung his bag on one shoulder. “I sent the order form off this morning. I should get the book delivered tomorrow at breakfast,” he said.

 

“Good timing. We have Potions in the morning,” Hermione said.

 

“Yeah,” he nodded and then pushed in his chair. “Meet you later for rounds?”

 

“Of course,” she nodded.

 

Draco gave a small quirk of the corner of his lips and then held onto his bag strap tightly. “Goodbye, then.”

 

Hermione gave him a smile and watched him turn around and walk out the library. “Bye, Draco,” she said quietly. She resumed working on her Transfiguration essay, devoting her whole concentration to it.

 

It was her lack of concentration to anything else that meant she didn’t hear someone approach her table until they spoke. “Why was Draco sitting here?” The voice snapped.

 

Hermione lifted her head, quite surprised, and then narrowed her eyes when she saw who was standing over her. “Why do you care, Zabini?” She hissed.

 

She could see Zabini standing as tall as he could next to her chair, towering over her so she had to look up at him, a true sign of him trying to assert his dominance over her. Before he could get a word in edgewise, she stood from her chair; she was  _ not _ going to let him try to intimidate her. He was a tall boy, and the top of her head barely reached his chin, but it was better than sitting.

 

“I care because he shouldn’t be sullying himself with your presence,” he said, his lip curling slightly. “Why was he here?”

 

Hermione knew that the best way to save her and Draco from the fallout if anyone found out about their friendship, was to lie, and lie well. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but your  _ leader _ has been missing classes,” she glared at him. “Professor McGonagall wants to ensure he catches up on his work, so I have to help him every so often.”

 

She didn’t know if he was buying her lie or not. His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark and calculative as he looked at her. “You better watch yourself, Mudblood,” he drawled. “The last thing Draco needs in his life is  _ your _ help and to even be in the same breathing space as you.”

 

“I can’t help what the teachers want, Zabini,” Hermione responded, holding her ground and not breaking his stare. She saw his jaw twitch before he looked down at her work which was spread across the table, her Transfiguration essay almost done, and quickly becoming one of the longest she had ever written. Her blood boiled when she watched him move his hand out and he used one finger to flick over her inkpot, spilling ink all over her work. “You  _ arse _ !” Hermione snapped and quickly moved forward to pick up the ink pot, ignoring the pain in her hand as she tried to move everything away from the ink staining the table.

 

Zabini smirked and crossed his arms at his chest. “You shouldn’t be keeping your things so close to the edge of the table where they can easily be knocked over,” he said. “Keep an eye out, Mudblood,” was his parting snarl before he turned around and walked away from her.

 

Hermione was fuming, her cheeks red with anger as she grabbed her wand and began to siphon the ink from her paper and the desk. She clenched her jaw tightly as she did so, refraining the urge to storm after Zabini and show him just what she could do with her wand when she was  _ really _ angry.

* * *

 

Much to Hermione’s relief, she had managed to finish her Transfiguration before her free period ended and she had to go to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Unsurprisingly, Professor Snape made the class unbearable, and Hermione sat by herself instead of with Harry and Ron, but as soon as the bell rang at the end of the double period, Hermione went straight back to the library. She had important business to attend to which she didn’t want slipping to the back of her mind.

 

She approached Madam Pince’s desk and withdrew her note from Professor Dumbledore once again, to show that she still had access to the Restricted Section. The librarian looked down her nose but nodded and went back to reading her own book, and Hermione hurried to the section that contained the books she hoped would be found.

 

Hermione searched up until dinner, then left for only ten minutes to quickly eat then return to the shelves. Her hunt was successful and she finished finding everything she needed only half an hour before curfew, and held the three heavy leather-bound books to her chest as her book bag was full, and made the tiring climb to the seventh floor and the Gryffindor tower.

Hermione was glad to see that when she arrived in the common room, Harry was still up and awake. Unfortunately, Ron was with him too, but it was sheer luck that Lavender was nowhere to be seen. Hermione approached the boys and let out a sigh of relief when she placed down the heavy books on the table in front of them. She stood straight and brushed her hair from her face and saw the look of confusion on both the boy’s faces.

 

“Uh… What’s all this?” Harry asked and moved his hand forward and flicked open the cover of the book on top.

 

“ _ This _ is just what we need,” Hermione said with a smug smile, and sat across from them. “I’ve been looking in the Restricted Section for everything that can help us and even though I haven’t found anything on...horcruxes,” she lowered her voice, “I’ve still found some other useful information.”

 

“These books look about as old as Hogwarts,” Ron said and when he went to pick one up, Hermione pushed his hand away.

 

She picked up the first book and turned it so the cover was facing them. “Protective Enchantments and Their Benefits and Limitations,” she read the title of the book to them then placed it down. “Advanced Protective Enchantments,” she showed the next book. “Wards, Charms and Enchantments to Become Untraceable,” she slid the last book their way. “I’ve had a read through most of them and they include everything that we should be learning; as soon as possible, really.”

 

She saw Harry’s brow furrow as he looked at all the books. Ron noticed too. “Mate, you don’t think that we’re not going to help with everything you need?”

 

“No, that’s the thing,” Harry said, his jaw tight. “I  _ know _ both of you are going to help,” he stared at Ron and then Hermione. “I don’t want you to help, I can’t have you put yourselves in danger for me,” he said and gestured his hands to the books between them. “I can’t expect you to learn these spells when you shouldn’t even be in a position to need to use them.”

 

“Harry…” Hermione said softly and waited until her best friend looked at her. “Nothing you say is going to change the fact that Ron and I are going to do whatever we can to help you,” she said and glanced at Ron who nodded.

 

“You can’t get rid of us that easily,” he said with a goofy smile that made Hermione forget why their friendship had become so tense. He was back to being the best friend she wanted and remembered him to be.

 

Hermione stacked the books in a pile once more. Harry was looking down at the table, his thumb rubbing over a dent in the wood, but Hermione kept speaking. “I say that we go to Hogsmeade the moment the next outing happens,” she said. “We’ll go to the cave that…” She trailed off and bit the inside of her cheek. “We’ll go to the cave that Sirius hid in, and we can practice some warding enchantments there.” She knew the mention of Sirius was like rubbing salt on Harry’s wounds, but they had a reality to face, and that reality was coming quicker than anyone anticipated.

 

Harry nodded and then pushed his chair back. “I need to get something...from my trunk,” he told his friends, clearly lying, and turned to walk to the stairs leading to the boy’s dormitories.

 

Hermione sighed and rest her elbows on the table. “He’s got to realise sooner or later we’re not going to let him do anything by himself,” she said to Ron.

 

The redhead nodded but wasn’t facing her. “I’m going to help him,” he said and stood up. Without even a glance back in her direction, he left in the same fashion Harry did, leaving Hermione alone once again, as she most often was.

 

* * *

“Do you like being a Prefect?” Hermione asked to break the silence. Her and Draco had been walking alongside each other quietly, down every corridor of the castle to ensure that all students were in their common rooms.

 

She watched him shrug one shoulder. He looked much more weary and tired than he had at lunch time, and he walked with his shoulders sagged and his hands in his trouser pockets. “It’s alright,” he answered her question. “Do you?”

 

Hermione nodded with a smile. “I’ve always wanted to be one as soon as I found out that Hogwarts has Prefects and Head students,” she said.

 

“Why?” He asked her.

 

“I’m not entirely sure,” she said honestly. “I just like the idea of it all. At my primary school--”

 

Draco cut her off, furrowing his brows, “Primary school?” He questioned.

 

“Oh,” Hermione said in surprise, forgetting that Draco would most likely have no idea about Muggle education. “It’s school for younger children. They go from when they’re five to when they’re around eleven.”

 

“Do you board there too?” He asked.

 

“No. Well, I didn’t, but there are some primary schools that do,” she explained, diverting away from why she’d actually brought up primary school in the first place. “So you were homeschooled before Hogwarts?” She asked him curiously.

 

Draco nodded. “I don’t know how my mother did it, though,” he said with a stiff smile. “I was a terror. I never really wanted to sit down and listen to what she tried to teach me.”

 

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, knowing that talking about his mother was seeming to be a rather sore spot for him. “What did she teach you?” She asked, thinking he would maybe speak more of what he learned rather than his mother.

 

“Loads,” Draco said. “A lot of it was my family history, though. Mostly the Malfoy side. But she was the first person to explain to me about the stars, even though it was easy things…” He trailed off. Hermione didn’t push him to keep talking, and the only sound between them for the next few minutes was their shoes hitting the stone floor. “She helped me to control my accidental magic,” he spoke. “She was...very patient, to say the least,” he laughed quietly.

 

Hermione smiled softly at that. “Most mothers are,” she commented.

 

“I remember she used to take me to the kitchen when my father was...away,” he said, his voice faltering at the mention of his father. “My favourite dessert was a strawberry and cream cake, and my mother learnt the recipe so we could make it together.” Hermione watched as a smile appeared on his face as they walked along, though his eyes stayed glued to the ground. “We used to make it quite a lot. She’d let me stir everything and cut up the strawberries and when it was done we’d eat it outside. I used to plead with her to let me have another piece and she always let me.”

 

Hermione was smiling too from seeing Draco look so comfortable and happy, associating his mother with happier memories than the ones he obviously had in the present time. “That sounds lovely,” Hermione told him and he finally looked up from the ground to face her.

 

Despite his tired appearance and the dark circles under his eyes, the smile on his lips made him seem whole. Like a proper, functioning person again. “I’d do anything to relive those moments,” he murmured after another prolonged silence between them.

 

Instead of responding to him, Hermione walked a little closer. His admission seemed very personal, almost as if he had debated saying it out-loud, due to the quietness of his tone, and the way he avoided her eyes, like he was pretending he had just been saying it to himself. She let her hand move out slightly and brushed her fingers against his and he turned his head. She only gave him a reassuring look and a small twitch of her lips, then kept her hands to herself again as they completed the rest of their rounds in comfortable silence, with something having changed between them both in the slightest after the personal admission on his behalf. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was utterly exhausted by the time she returned to the common room. Her and Draco had finished their rounds an hour after their conversation pertaining his childhood memories, and in that time they had found two Hufflepuff students out of bed, trying to enter an empty classroom, and then a group of Gryffindor boys who’d been heading for the staircases. Hermione and Draco had been quick to dock points and threaten to inform the Head of their houses if they didn’t return to their dormitories immediately, which made the students scamper off, not likely to try and sneak out again.

 

On the seventh floor, just some turns away from the corridor that hid the Room of Requirement, she had said goodnight to Draco who, despite her insistence she walk back with him, said he would return to his common room alone. She’d convinced herself she only wanted to walk with him more so there was a higher possibility of finding students out of bed, but she knew truthfully that she just wanted to spend more time with him. Nearing the dead of night, in the quiet castle wandering the halls with him, their rounds felt more like the time they spent together during the Christmas holidays rather than completing their Prefect duties.

 

Not only was she physically shattered arriving back to the common room, her head was aching from her whirring thought process of the day and she was ready to retire straight to bed, grateful that the next day she could grant herself a slightly longer sleep-in as she had a free period in the morning.

 

She had been walking in the direction of the stairs leading to the girl’s dormitory when she saw the only other person awake and still in the common room. She narrowed her eyes, looking at them, sitting with their back to her at a table, bent over and scribbling something quickly. Hermione walked forward and opened her mouth to scold the student and tell them it was time for bed, but she stopped when the person sat up straight and she recognised the messy hair belonging to her best friend. “Harry,” she said in surprise and walked behind him. “What are you doing up at this time?”

 

Harry jolted in his seat and quickly shut the textbook next to him and Hermione pursed her lips when she saw the cover page. It was his Potions’ textbook. She looked at what he’d been writing on and squinted her eyes to decipher his scrawled writing before he snatched the piece of parchment away and stood up. “I’m just going to bed,” he said. “Night, Hermione,” he said quickly and almost ran to the staircase to the boy’s dormitory.

 

Hermione knew that he’d been hiding something from her. For what reason, she knew it was most-likely his reluctance to hear her disapproval of his textbook again. What Harry didn’t know, however, is that she saw what he’d been writing before he’d snatched the parchment away, clearly having thought the textbook was more important to close over than to hide what he had written.

 

And he hadn’t written much, from what Hermione had seen. His letters had been hard to read, but she had managed to decipher what he’d managed to write before she’d interrupted him and he’d had to stop.

 

_ Sectumsempra. For enem-- _


	16. Success

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me. 
> 
> Don't forget oeuvre24 is uploading on ff.net, so check out her profile! Thanks for reading and we hope you enjoy!

The next day, Harry avoided Hermione the entire morning. She waited in the common room for him, but he had come speeding down the stairs from the boys’ dormitory with Ron at his side, both of them barely glancing her way. She glared at the back of their heads as they climbed out of the portrait hole, before making her way down to the Great Hall. She hadn’t forgotten what she’d seen on the parchment last night, and Harry certainly couldn’t avoid her forever. As she climbed down the stairs to the entrance hall, she told herself this was all the more reason to get rid of that blasted Potions book. Whoever this Prince character was, they were up to no good. 

 

When she arrived at the Great Hall, her eyes inconspicuously scanned the Slytherin table and her lips twitched when she saw the familiar tuft of blonde hair at the far end of the table. He wasn’t sitting with his usual group, and even though that was still odd, Hermione liked that he was finally separating himself from his vile classmates. Much to her displeasure, however, Harry and Ron were seated with Lavender wedged between them, so she settled for sitting next to Ginny, even though she was preoccupied chatting with Dean. 

 

She piled eggs and toast onto her plate and poured herself some pumpkin juice, all the while keeping her eye on Draco at his table. Hermione watched as Draco attempted to shovel a bite of sausage into his mouth, but it fell from the tip of his fork back onto his plate. Draco scowled down at the bit of food, as though he was deeply offended by its actions. Hermione giggled, and quickly looked back down at her plate. 

 

Draco Malfoy was never ugly, appearance wise, but her perception of him changed when he had spent years picking on her and her friends. And now...now that it seemed he was becoming a different person than the over-dramatic, rude and hurtful boy she had grown to endure, she found her perception of him changing again. It was melting, transforming, molding, into something new. Something completely different than the other emotions she would have associated him with in the past. Draco had once made the best of any opportunity to insult her or provoke Harry and Ron, but other than that she usually paid him no mind. She never would have looked over to his table, she’d never glanced at him in class to see if he was alright or even paying attention, and she’d never found herself smiling and giggling because Draco Malfoy dropped a bit of sausage. 

 

Something stirred inside her and it was then that she forbade herself from looking at him for the rest of breakfast. Ginny asked if she was alright, placing a hand on her back. Hermione claimed she was just tired and had a bit of a headache. The redhead seemed to believe her as she shot her a sympathetic smile and returned to her conversation with Dean. Hermione went back to her toast and didn’t look up towards the Slytherin table once. But if she had, she would have seen Draco looking right back. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione’s stomach was in knots when she arrived to Herbology that morning, and it had nothing to do with the fact that they were still working with the same plant that had injured her hand earlier that week. The only time she had looked up for the rest of breakfast was when she had heard the flapping of wings and the familiar rush as a swarm of owls soared through the Great Hall towards their owners. She broke her gaze away from her empty plate and Transfiguration textbook longer enough to see Draco’s eagle owl land in from of him, a brown package tied to its leg. Draco looked over at her, nodding once and slipping his owl a handful of treats. 

 

So when she arrived to Herbology, taking her spot beside Harry, with Ron on his other side, she was practically shaking. Professor Sprout told them to get straight to work, so Hermione picked up the trimmers they were instructed to use and set to work. Either Harry and Ron didn’t mind the silence, or they were still ignoring her as the three of them worked in silence for the entire period. Hermione desperately wanted to question Harry about what he’d been up to the night before, but she wasn’t going to discuss such matters in class. 

 

When the period ended, Hermione managed to keep up with Harry and Ron as they climbed the stone steps back up towards the castle. The mid-January sun shone bleakly down on the grounds as their robes fluttered at their feet with each step. 

 

“Harry,” she said sternly. 

 

“Don’t, Hermione. Alright?” Harry said angrily. “I already know what you’re going to say.” 

 

Hermione stopped in her tracks and to her surprise, the boys did as well. With her hands on her hips and her eyebrow arched, she asked scathingly, “Oh, do you?” 

 

It was Ron who rolled his eyes and stepped forward, as though protecting Harry from the lecture she prepared in her head. “Oh come off it, we both do. You’ll say it’s dangerous and Harry shouldn’t trust the book.” 

 

Her mouth snapped shut and her confidence fell slightly. That was essentially her point. “Well, still--”

 

“And it’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” Ron went on. “You’ve been researching all sorts of spells in the library! For our protection, right?” 

 

“But that’s defensive magic! None of us know what this Prince’s spell does!” She said hotly, her patience growing thin. “It could be incredibly dangerous or- ” 

 

“You just hate that it’s helped Harry with Potions.” Ron snapped, cutting her off. 

 

Hermione didn’t have time to retort as Ron had grabbed Harry by the shoulder and turned him around before continuing to head back to the castle. Hermione stood standing in the cold, wondering what on Earth had just happened. 

 

* * *

 

She had arrived in the Entrance Hall and was walking across its stone floors towards the stairs that would lead to the dungeons when she heard someone whisper her name behind her. The Hall was empty, as most students had already arrived at their next class so when Hermione heard it again, she stopped and spun around. To the left, Draco was peering at her from behind a tapestry, and motioned for her to come over, but shut it abruptly. 

 

She wandered over and stepped behind the tapestry. The space wasn’t big at all and it was quite dark. Hermione shuffled to the right but still found herself only inches away from Draco. 

 

“Have you figured out how you’re going to get Potter and Weasley away from your table?” He whispered. 

 

Hermione bit her lip. After a tense Herbology lesson and the little spat afterwards, her plan with Draco had slipped to the back of her mind. “Erm,” she began. “Not exactly.” 

 

Before Draco would ask her why, she added, “I don’t think we’re on speaking terms at the moment. I don’t even know if they’ll save me a seat in Potions.” 

 

Draco rolled his eyes at this and folded his arms across his chest. He leaned against the wall, one foot pressed against the stone. “What happened?” 

 

“I may have tried to lecture him on how that book is dangerous,” she admitted, realizing how stupid that had been. If she hadn’t brought it up at all, they could have gotten rid of it within the next hour. 

 

“Ah, Granger…” Draco said with a shake of his head and a disappointed look. “Couldn’t wait, could you?” 

 

“I had good reason!” She argued, her voice hushed to conceal their location. “He found  _ another  _ spell hidden inside that book. There’s no telling what it could do.” 

 

Draco perked up at this bit of information. His eyes were full of the eerie eagerness she had seen the first time she had described the contents of the book. “What kind of spell?” He asked, licking his lips. 

 

“I don’t know,” she huffed indignantly and stomped her foot. There were more pressing matters at the moment, didn’t he realize that? “Draco, class starts soon. What are we--”

 

But at that moment, the warning bell sounded across the castle and grounds. If they didn’t leave now, they would surely be late, and what would Professor Slughorn and their entire Potions class say if they showed up late _together_? Draco saw the urgency in her features and practically shoved her out from behind the tapestry. “Go!” He said. 

 

“The plan!” She whispered as his palm dug into her back. 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be brilliant or something? Wing it!” He retorted. 

 

Hermione wasted no time in rushing towards the steps and bustling down them as fast her legs could carry, though there was a smile on her face and a pink tint to her cheeks as she ran down the corridor, towards the classroom. She entered the classroom and sat down at the table at the front, as Harry and Ron had sat a table with Ernie Macmillan. 

 

“Alright there, Miss Granger? You look a bit flustered,” Professor Slughorn chortled. 

 

“Yes, sir. My bag ripped on the way here so--”

 

“Maybe if she didn’t lug around so many books in there,” Pansy muttered not so quietly to Zabini and Nott. 

 

Hermione scowled at the three of them, but when she noticed Draco had not yet arrived, her expression faltered. Pansy smiled wickedly at her, her eyes flashing. Professor Slughorn’s attention had turned to the three Slytherins, a displeased expression his face. 

 

“Now,” he said, tapping his chin. “Where is Mister Malfoy?” 

 

Hermione turned her gaze back to the front of the classroom. Where was Draco? Shouldn’t he have been here by now? The three Slytherins seemed to have no idea where Draco was either, as they all remained silent. Professor Slughorn made a sound of disapproval before docking five points from Slytherin for Pansy’s disruption and instructing them all to read chapter nine in their textbook and take notes on the different properties of antidotes. 

 

The class worked in silence for the next fifteen minutes before the dungeon door swung open to reveal Draco finally arriving. Professor Slughorn looked up with an arched eyebrow. “Ah, Mister Malfoy,” He said. 

 

Draco took his seat next to Pansy, setting his bag on the floor beside him. “Sorry I’m late Professor. Professor Snape wanted a quick word with me, he sends his apologies as well.” 

 

Professor Slughorn hummed. “Well, no matter at all, is it?” He chuckled. “Get to work, the instructions are on the board.” 

 

Draco nodded and pulled out a quill and ink pot before turning to the correct page in his textbook. When the rest of the class had returned their concentration to their work, Draco looked over at her with a disgruntled expression. She knew he was annoyed. At this point, it was highly unlikely they would have the opportunity to steal Harry’s book today. She was nowhere near Harry or Ron, and it would be awfully difficult to distract the two of them. She felt silly now, for trying to talk to Harry earlier, but after what she had witnessed the night before, she couldn’t help it. 

 

The rest of class passed in silence, aside from the sounds of quills scratching against parchment and the occasional muttered obscenity when one of them made a mistake. When the bell rang, Harry and Ron were out the door before Hermione had even packed away her belongings. She took her time and with a quick glance at Draco, saw that he was doing the same. 

 

“Coming Draco?” Blaise asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

 

“Go on without me. I have some things to take care of,” Draco’s tone was sharper than usual, and judging by the steely glare that Blaise shot him, he was furious that Draco was abandoning them again. 

 

Blaise left, following Pansy and Theo, who had apparently not bothered to wait for Draco. Hermione found this odd. They always waited for Draco, particularly Pansy. 

 

She finished packing her bag and when she looked up, found that she and Draco were completely alone. Professor Slughorn had apparently retreated to his private office already. Draco looked at her and nodded his head towards the door. Hermione nodded and waited until he was halfway towards the door to begin leaving. 

 

When Draco had checked that the coast was clear, they both exited the classroom and started walking down the corridor towards the steps leading back up to the Entrance Hall. Hermione kept catching whiffs of his cologne and wanted to tell him he should wear something less enticing and addicting. 

 

“The room or the library?” He asked as the stairs drew closer. 

 

Hermione hugged her books tighter to chest and exhaled deeply. “Room. So you can tell me why two out of three of your housemates left without a glance back at you.” 

 

Draco chuckled, much to her surprise. “I’m sure you’ll find it an amusing tale.” 

 

* * *

 

Once settled on the couch, two cups of tea in front of them and their homework covering the coffee table, Hermione nudged Draco in the side with her elbow. “Alright, tell me,” She urged. 

 

“I got into a bit of a spat with the three of them last night,” He explained, shaking his head. 

 

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in thought. “But Blaise had stayed behind?” She commented, setting down her quill and giving him her full attention. 

 

They sat side by side, their arms and sides touching with their feet propped up on the coffee table. Hermione rested her head in her hand, balancing her elbow on her knobbly knees. 

 

“Blaise is the more mature one out of the three,” He said with a roll of his eyes. “Pansy and Theo are still a bit bitter.” 

 

“I see,” She said, understanding perfectly. She and Harry made up quicker than she and Ron did, and although Harry was a bit peeved with her at the moment, she knew it wouldn’t be long before he started speaking with her again. “You don’t have to tell me, obviously. But what was the argument about?” 

 

She thought for a moment that she had crossed a line. It wasn’t really her business why he was in rut with his mates. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and waited patiently. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, wringing his hands as he struggled to formulate his thoughts into words. “You,” he said finally, his voice cracking. 

 

Hermione felt her ears grow hot and her stomach began to churn. “Me?” She repeated flatly. 

 

“You know how they feel about you,” He said dully, resting his head in his hand as well. 

 

He looked at her then, his grey eyes boring into her as she stared back and he cocked his head. Hermione’s thoughts were whirling at the moment. Yes, she knew exactly how the three Slytherins felt, and yet, Draco was still wishing to be with her. And to be alone with her. Her stomach fluttered at the thought. 

 

“But you feel differently?” She asked, her voice feeling foreign as the words slipped off her tongue. Like it wasn’t her speaking. 

 

Draco shrugged, not looking at her. His face was expressionless when he spoke. “Opinions I once had may have changed.” 

 

Hermione stayed silent. Her brain was not working properly at the moment. But what did he mean exactly? What did he think of her now? She and Draco were nothing but friends. And it wasn’t often that they were seen together. What did his friends think? As though he could read her thoughts, he let out a soft laugh and shook his head again. 

 

“They’re just concerned you’re going to muddy me up just by, well…” He didn’t want to finish the sentence. He swallowed hard and looked at her. 

 

“Being near me,” She said bitterly. Pansy and Blaise had said it to her enough. She should have already known. “What did you say?” She asked hesitantly, unsure of whether or not she wanted to know the answer. 

 

“You help me with homework on the occasion,” He said airily. “I tell them it’s difficult to tolerate you but Father would kill me if my grades started slipping.” There was a pause and Hermione swore he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. “To make it believable.” 

 

She nodded, her lips pressed tightly together. She hated that they had keep up this act. Pretending to hate each other or at the very least begrudgingly tolerate the other’s presence since his friends knew they worked on homework together. She hated the tension between her house and his. She hated that if their friendship were revealed it would cause an uproar among their friends. 

 

“Of course,” She said faintly. 

 

They sat in silence for a few moments before he suggested they continue working on their homework. Hermione agreed and pulled her Arithmancy textbook a bit closer to her. Neither of them spoke for the remainder of their break. When the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, they packed up their things and slipped their shoes back on. She told him she would leave first, and that she would see him again in Ancient Runes. Draco called out to her as she opened the door, but she didn’t bother looking back. 

 

* * *

 

_ Did I upset you earlier?  _

 

Her eyes scanned the parchment he had slipped into her view. She chewed at the inside of her cheek as she scribbled her reply, keeping one eye on Professor Babbling to make sure they wouldn’t get caught. 

 

_ It wasn’t you.  _ She wrote.  _ Just...this stinks. Hiding our friendship.  _

 

Draco read her reply, looked up at her, his expression grim and the muscles in his face taut. He nodded in agreement then bent over the parchment to write his reply. 

 

_ I know.  _

 

* * *

 

 

Draco disappeared on her after lunch. Double Charms was spent in silence, as Harry and Ron still weren’t speaking to her. Hermione wished for nothing more than to be in her bed with the curtains drawn. The week was dragging on forever, and it felt wrong to not be speaking to either of her best friends. Not to mention her thoughts seemed to always end up drifting to Draco, and worrying about him constantly was beginning to take its toll on her. She was utterly exhausted. 

 

When Charms ended, Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm as he began to stand up. The rest of the students were filing out of the room. Ron stood by, waiting to see how this was going to play out. Harry looked down at her hand clutching his forearm and then up at her, his eyebrow arched. 

 

“I’m sorry about earlier today,” She said, the words pouring out of her mouth. “I--I know you have a lot on your plate. And we are searching for ways to defend ourselves and technically, the Death Eaters and Voldemort are our enemies so…” she trailed off, realizing she was beginning to ramble. 

 

She let go of Harry’s arm, letting her arm fall limp at her side. His expression softened upon seeing the look on her face. “It’s fine, Hermione,” He reassured gently. 

 

“Just…” she began, laying her hand on his shoulder this time. She tilted her head to the side and studied her best friend. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of these spells, Harry.” 

 

He nodded in understanding. He didn’t want to hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. He didn’t really fancy hurting anyone, period. He had tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix last June and he hadn’t been able to do it properly. She knew that. But Harry was on edge this year, and there was a big threat overtop all their heads, and she knew he could be irrational and stupidly heroic when in the moment. 

 

With things patched up between her and Harry, Hermione went to the library on her free period feeling slightly more optimistic. Still exhausted, and still longing for a nap, but her chest felt a bit lighter. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione didn’t see Draco for the entire weekend. She had hoped he would show up to the library Friday afternoon after Potions, but no such luck. They hadn’t been able to try and steal the book from Harry as they were instructed to read and take notes. So she wondered if Draco was in some way, annoyed with her. Just the thought of it made her scowl in disapproval. That didn’t seem fair. 

 

She thought perhaps she would see him later on at dinner, but he hadn’t shown up. After dinner she had gone to their room and worked on her homework, as it was practically the only opportunity she would have to do so all weekend. But after three hours of sitting at the table alone, the candle had now completely melted, and Draco still hadn’t shown up. 

 

On Saturday, there was a Hogsmeade trip scheduled, and as discussed, she, Harry and Ron snuck off with Harry’s cloak just barely covering the three of them to the cave Sirius had hid out in. Hermione taught them a few of the wards she had already learned and after the cold grew to be too much and their stomachs howled with hunger, they retreated back to Hogsmeade and grabbed a bite to eat at The Three Broomsticks. It was the first time in what felt like an eternity that she and Ron had managed to get along for a few hours. She knew it was for the sake of Harry, and they didn’t speak to each other much once they had sat down to eat, but it was an improvement from earlier this year. 

 

By the time they returned to the castle, Hermione could no longer hold out her resistance to a nap and promptly fell asleep on top of her bed covers, fully dressed and slept well into the night. 

 

When she woke up before sunrise on Sunday, she groaned and forced her eyes shut again. Couldn’t she sleep for just a bit longer?  Her brain had thought otherwise and she was forced lay there, wide awake. It was much too early to wander about the castle. 

 

Draco had not shown up to breakfast that morning, though Hagrid had stopped to invite her, Harry and Ron down to his cabin later that day. The trio agreed and after Hermione had spent her free hours in the library, still hoping Draco would make an appearance, they had gone down to Hagrid’s and spent several hours listening to stories about Grawp and feeding ferrets to Witherwings. 

 

When dusk began to fall over the grounds, the three of them said goodbye to Hagrid and departed for the castle. After eating dinner and still no sign of Draco, Hermione went to bed early that night, falling into another five or six hours of restless sleep. 

 

* * *

 

Monday morning arrived too soon, and the giggles of Lavender and Parvati were impossible to ignore. Hermione had one too many nightmares and woke with a headache that was already pounding in her ears. It was with gritted teeth and a scowl at her two housemates that she got out of bed to get ready for the day. 

 

Ron had apparently been whisked away by Lavender in the common room, leaving her and Harry to walk down to breakfast, and when they arrived in the Great Hall and her eyes landed on the familiar head of blonde hair, she had to hide the excitement and anger building inside her. 

 

She stuffed a few pieces of toast into her stomach, some pumpkin juice and a small bowl of cereal before dashing off to Ancient Runes. Harry didn’t even have to time to ask where she was going as she was already halfway out the hall. 

 

* * *

 

“Where the bloody hell were you all weekend?” She hissed as he sat down at their table in Runes not even ten minutes later. He winced when she swatted his arm, and pulled away from her. 

 

He looked exhausted again and one glance down at his hands exposed healing cuts and scrapes. She arched an eyebrow at him, but he was already giving her a sharp look that told her not to bother asking. 

 

Professor Babbling told them to continue their reading from Friday and the class settled into silence. Hermione was still annoyed with Draco; she hated when he pulled one of his disappearing acts on her, but it was hard to stay mad at him when he looked so defeated and tired. The two of them worked silently for the first twenty minutes or so before he abruptly slipped another piece of parchment with a note scribbled on it. 

 

_ Come to the Room for break?  _ It said. 

 

Hermione gave him a once over, before pursing her lips and jotting down her reply. 

 

_ I’m meeting Harry in the library.  _ She jotted down quickly before pushing the parchment to him. 

 

It wasn’t a lie either. She had promised Harry that morning that she would help him with their Charms essay, due the following day. Draco gave her a curt nod before lowering his head over his textbook once more. Hermione rolled her eyes and forced herself to focus back on her work. 

 

* * *

 

Draco found her in the library during her free period after lunch. She had avoided him during Arithmancy and he looked thoroughly irritated when he pulled out a chair across from her and sat down with thud. 

 

“I wanted you to come to the room during break today so we could talk more about our plan,” He muttered lowly. 

 

Hermione paused in her writing. “I had to meet Harry here, I told you,” She said finally, returning to her Defence Against the Dark Arts homework. 

 

“Well can we discuss it now?” He asked, leaning back in his chair. 

 

With a heavy sigh, Hermione dropped her quill and looked around at the seemingly empty stacks. “I did have an idea…” she whispered, her annoyance with him slipping through her fingers like putty. 

 

His face lit up and he leaned forward excitedly. “Brilliant. What is it?” 

 

Hermione shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She began wringing her hands as she struggled to speak. “Erm, well…” she said nervously. “It’s not exactly pleasant...or nice. But considering the difficult circumstances--”

 

“Today, please,” He teased. 

 

She huffed impatiently before launching into her plan. It wasn’t great, but it was all she had been able to come up with for the time being. When she had finished, Draco had a smile resembling the mischievous one he had always sported in their younger days. His arms were folded across his chest as he balanced on the two back legs of the chair. 

 

“What?” She asked, beginning to feel unnerved. 

 

“I just never thought you had this in you, Granger,” He chuckled. 

 

Hermione could have sworn she saw a rush of pink tint his normally pale cheeks. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione thought she was going to faint she was so nervous as the minutes ticked by in Potions. Of course she had picked the day they had a double. More time to come up with a better plan than her current one, yes, but as she also tried to focus on her work, the minutes slipped away from her quickly. 

 

With just fifteen minutes left, she knew she would have to be quick about this. Muttering to Harry that she needed more ingredients and would be right back, she walked over to the supply closet. She searched the drawers and shelves of ingredients before finding what she needed. She grabbed the jar of Exploding Ginger Eyelash and pulled out a few, closing her fingers around them. 

 

Her knees were shaking as she walked back to their table, already regretting what she was about to do. _It’s for his own good_ , she repeated in her head. Like a mantra. _He’s better off without the book._ Harry smiled at her as she returned to her seat. She attempted to give him a smile in return and was surprised when he turned back to his bubbling potion. Surreptitiously, Hermione dropped the Exploding Ginger Eyelash into her cauldron and resisted the urge to squeeze her eyes shut as sparks started flying and large drops of boiling potion began to splatter everywhere.

 

Hermione yelped as a drop landed on the back of her hand. In an attempt to avoid more splashes of the volatile potion, Hermione pulled her hand away. But before she retracted it, she accidentally lowered her hand, making contact with the boiling cauldron. She jumped back in pain, her hand knocking over the cauldron, and the explosive potion dripped off their table and onto the floor, sparks still flying. Other students had ducked under their tables for cover while Harry and Ron backed away quickly as the potion crept towards their feet. Ron howled in pain as the potion sizzled on the tips of his shoes while several large drops were burning the skin on his hands and exposed forearms. Harry was trying to save the bottom of robes while several splashes hit the back of his robes and his neck. 

 

“Off to the infirmary!” Professor Slughorn boomed over the chaos. 

 

Hermione saw Harry grab his textbook and shove it into his bag before following a howling Ron out of the classroom. The skin on her hands was still burning and it wasn't long before she dashed out after her two best friends. 

 

She caught up with Harry and Ron quickly, tears flowing down her cheeks. She had meant to drop in the Exploding Ginger Eyelash, but she hadn't meant to knock over her cauldron. “I'm so sorry, I must have dropped in the wrong ingredient!” she cried. 

 

“Yeah right,” Ron snarled. “Like you didn't do that on purpose!” 

 

“What?” she shouted as the three headed towards the Hospital Wing. “I wouldn't--”

 

“You're jealous of Harry!” Ron retorted. “That’s why you did it!” 

 

Harry was now several feet in front of her and Ron. There were holes burned into the back of his robes, his neck was covered in burn marks, and the ends of his hair was singed. Hermione winced at the sight and felt her throat tighten.

 

What had she done? 

 

* * *

 

Madam Pomfrey patched them up quickly and sent them on their way. Ron had stalked out of the infirmary as soon as Madam Pomfrey was done, not even bothering to wait for Harry. Hermione turned and looked at her best friend. Her tears had stopped but a ball of guilt had settled in her stomach. She should have never gone through with this plan. 

 

“I really didn’t meant to, Harry,” She mumbled weakly. 

 

“It’s fine,” He said quickly, not looking at her. “Really, it’s…” He sighed heavily. “It’s fine, okay?” 

 

As Harry turned and walked away from her, she got the impression it was not fine at all. Hermione inspected her bandaged hands and sighed. _Second time in a week_ , she thought bitterly. With her heart heavy in her chest and tears pricking at her eyes again, Hermione practically raced to the Room of Requirement, and for the first time, found herself hoping that Draco wasn’t there. 

 

* * *

 

With a turn of luck, Hermione entered the room to find that it was indeed empty. Wasting no time, she flung her bag down on the floor, collapsed onto the couch and rolled onto her side before succumbing to the sobs she had been choking back the entire way there. 

 

Her lungs burned as she continued to cry. She hugged the pillow tighter and squeezed her eyes shut. What had she been thinking? How could she have done this to Harry and Ron? What if one of them had gotten seriously injured and... _ oh Gods, that’s exactly what I said to Harry only a few days ago!  _ She thought.

 

Her body continued to shake with sobs. Hermione hadn’t the faintest idea how long she lay there, letting her tears soak into the cushions. She cried for what she had done to Harry and Ron. She cried for Draco and how defeated he looked sometimes, and whatever it was that was sucking the life out of him this year. She cried for all the people who had gone missing over the past months, and all the towns that had been destroyed and the people who had already died in the beginning of the war. She couldn’t stop it; the sorrow and frustration and fear that she had been bottling in for months was pouring out of her now. 

 

It felt like hours before the tears stopped and her heart beat slowed, finally, her eyes drifted shut. 

 

* * *

 

Her eyes fluttered open when she registered the sound of shuffling feet. She glanced around the room, her throat dry and her eyes heavy. The fire was lit, the radio had been turned on and sitting over at the table was Draco. He was bent low over a bit of parchment, unaware that she was awake. Her eyes flitted to the coffee table in front of her and saw a tray with a cup of tea and a bowl of sugar. When she shifted her body into a sitting position, she realised that a blanket had been draped over her. 

 

As quietly as she could, she fixed herself a cup of tea and sipped the steaming hot liquid. She accidentally let out a soft noise of approval as the tea slid down her throat, gaining Draco’s attention. 

 

“You’re awake,” He said, getting up to join her on the couch. 

 

Hermione nodded and drew the blanket tighter around her. She hoped her eyes were no longer red and puffy. Draco had already seen her cry once, and that was enough. 

 

“You alright?” He asked, nodding towards her bandaged hands. 

 

“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “Harry and Ron will be fine too.” 

 

Draco nodded, even though they both knew he could care less about the two of them. “We didn’t get the book.” 

 

Hermione scowled at him and set down her teacup. “Thanks for the reminder,” She spat. 

 

Draco didn’t say anything more, and her thoughts returned to the disastrous Potions class. 

“I can’t do it again,” She said, shaking her head fiercely. 

 

“Yes, you can,” He said gruffly. “We just…need a different plan.”

 

Hermione winced and scooted a few inches away from him. She wasn’t too happy with him at that moment. How could he still be so eager to get the book? They sat in silence for several moments with the radio continuing to crackle in the background as the fire roared. 

 

“You said so yourself. That book is no good,” He said, his voice gentler this time. “We have to get rid of it.” 

 

She nodded, though she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Her eyes were brimmed with tears again, threatening to spill over any second. Draco placed a hand on her knee, making her jump. 

 

“Sorry,” He said meekly, but he hadn’t moved his hand. She could feel her skin growing warm from his touch and she realized she didn’t mind his hand being there. 

 

“It’s alright,” She whispered. 

 

Her eyes found the clock on the wall opposite them and she gasped when she saw it was quarter to eleven. She stood up quickly and looked around for her bag. After retrieving it from beside the couch, she searched for her robes and brushed her fingers through her hair quickly. When she turned to say goodbye to Draco, she found him staring at her with an odd expression on his face. 

 

“I should go,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She winced as the weight settled uncomfortably along her her shoulder and back. “It’s late, and…” she trailed off and looked down at the ground. “Thank you for the tea.” 

 

Draco nodded. She saw the hurt and disappointment flash across his features. Her heart sank. She didn’t want to leave him, but it was getting late, and being a Prefect did not give her the right to be out this late past curfew without duties to perform. “Of course,” He said, standing up as well. 

 

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him how much she appreciated him being there. She wanted to tell him to sit back down, and that she wasn’t leaving, but the words escaped her and her feet started moving towards the door. 

 

“Good night, Draco,” She said before slipping out the door. 

 

Just before the door shut, she heard the faintest, “Good night Granger.”

 

* * *

 

Not to her surprise, Ron and Harry sat with Ernie in Potions class on Tuesday morning. Harry smiled weakly at her as she passed to sit at the table up front, but Ron completely ignored her. Draco gave her a small nod when he entered and she shot him a smile in return. 

 

The minutes ticked by painfully slow as Hermione focused on brewing her potion. When she reached to grab more beetle’s eyes, she saw that she had none left. She rolled her eyes and went to fetch more from the supply cabinet, but as she searched the many boxes stuffed on the shelves, she couldn’t find a single one. The boxes were completely empty. How could it be that there wasn’t at least one eye left over? 

 

Deciding maybe Harry had some to spare, she retreated towards the back of the classroom where Harry was peering into his cauldron, but as she made her way past Zabini’s table, she felt herself fall forward and hit the cold, hard floor of the dungeon. She groaned at the pain in her knees and palms, as they had broken the worse of her fall. Laughter sounded from above her and when she looked up, she saw that the three Slytherin’s were laughing at her. 

 

Before she could stand up, she heard the scraping of stools and the shuffle of feet. Harry’s arm was around her waist, pulling her up before he rounded on Zabini. “What are you playing at, Zabini?!” Harry snarled. 

 

“Harry, don’t!” She pleaded, attempting to pull him away. 

 

She looked to the front of the classroom to find Professor Slughorn missing from his desk.  _ Wonderful.  _ She thought. 

 

“Relax Potter,” Zabini drawled with a mischievous smirk. “Accidents happen.” And then he looked at her. “Right, Granger?” 

 

Harry looked at her with a confused expression. Hermione felt her cheeks growing hot. She glared at Zabini, her hands curled tightly into fists at her side. She didn’t dare look at Draco, much as she wanted to see how he had reacted to his housemate tripping her in front of the class. 

 

And somehow, miraculously, it was then that a brilliant idea came to her. 

 

“Just like it was accident that you knocked over my inkpot onto my essay in the library?” She shot back fiercely. “Fat chance.” 

 

It was then that Ron came into view, standing beside Harry. As Hermione looked around the classroom, she saw that every student’s attention was on them. She chanced a quick glance at Draco and saw him slowly slipping away from his seat behind the table, one hand behind his back. 

 

“What’s your problem, Zabini?” Harry asked through gritted teeth. 

 

Zabini wrinkled his nose in her direction. His features were sharp and hard as the corners of his lips turned slowly upwards. “Her blood is my problem,” The Slytherin said coolly. 

 

Pansy snorted loudly, slapping a hand over her mouth. Hermione looked at the clock and had to bite back her smile when she saw there was less than five minutes left. Draco was just about to arrive at Harry’s table, ready to switch out the books. 

 

“There’s nothing wrong with her blood,” Harry said, his voice dangerously low. He had gripped his wand tightly in his hand. “There’s just something wrong with you.” 

 

Zabini burst into laughter and Pansy and Nott had followed suit. The rest of the class watched in anticipation, waiting for something to happen. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Draco switching the insides of the book. Her heart skipped a beat as he slipped what she hoped was the Prince’s copy into his robes and made his way back towards his seat. 

 

“Leave it, Harry. Please. He’s not worth getting into trouble over,” She whispered, tugging on his arm. 

 

Ron and Harry glared at Zabini as he smirked triumphantly at the three of them. After pleading with him once more, Harry retreated, muttering threats under his breath as he went. Ron shot Zabini one last scathing look and returned to his table with Harry. The bell rang and Hermione watched as Harry slipped his belongings into his bag, including his brand new, unmarked copy of Advanced Potion-Making. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione raced to the Room of Requirement for her free period after Runes, eager to meet Draco and congratulate him on stealing the book. They hadn’t been able to talk in Ancient Runes as they had a test that day, but the joy had been bubbling inside of her for the past few hours. She pushed her way past students and fumbled up the stairs before she finally reached the empty stretch of the seventh floor corridor. The door appeared a few moments later after she paced in front of it and focused on their room. She opened the door to find Draco already standing inside, the book clutched in his hand.

 

Beaming, she rushed towards him and without thinking, threw her arms around his neck. He seemed shocked for a moment as his body remained stiff, but after a few seconds, his arms wrapped around her middle. 

 

“I can’t believe we did it!” She gushed. 

 

Hermione pulled herself away, still grinning at him. Draco was smiling back at her, looking slightly pink in the face. 

 

“You seized the moment,” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Well done, Granger.” 

 

She couldn’t help but feel proud of herself. The book was finally gone! They’d actually done it. Harry would be furious once he realized his book was gone, but this was for the better. “Thanks,” She said as she moved to sit down on the couch. 

 

Draco followed, letting the book sit in his lap. Hermione drew her knees to her chest as she stared at the cover. It looked new, but she knew what was inside. 

 

“I was serious when I said I want you to get rid of it. I don’t care how. Toss it in the lake, throw it in a fire. Just...make sure it’s gone,” She said firmly. 

 

He nodded before standing up and walking over to the fireplace. Hermione watched as he tossed the book into the fire. The flames engulfed the binding and soon the pages began to burn and shrivel. Watching the book disappear before her eyes felt like a weight being lifted off her chest. Draco came back over to the couch and sat next to her once more. 

 

“Thank you,” She said with a sigh of relief. 

 

“Will you tell me how pissed Potter is when he finds out?” Draco asked, holding back a laugh. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and nudged him in the side with her elbow. “Not likely.” 

 

“Pity,” he muttered. “At least we’ll be back at the top in Potions.” 

 

“More importantly,” she said a bit louder than him. “No one’s going to get hurt because of this book.” 

 

* * *

 

Hermione, Harry and Ron had arrived to Transfiguration and had just gotten settled into their seats when Harry froze, his copy of Advanced Potion-Making open on his lap. Hermione grew tense beside him. The moment had arrived. 

 

“Where’s my book?” He asked numbly. 

 

“What are you talking about, Harry?” She asked as innocently as she could. 

 

“My book. The Prince’s book,” He said, dropping his voice to a whisper. 

 

Hermione glanced down at his copy to see unmarked, fresh pages. She frowned and chewed on the inside of her cheek in thought. “Maybe someone picked up your copy by mistake, Harry? I mean you did put a new cover on it. Maybe Ron or I have it?” 

 

Ron looked up at the mention of his name and followed her lead of shuffling through their bags for their copy of the textbook. Hermione put on her best disappointed expression as she showed her own copy to Harry, who now looked panicked. 

 

“Sorry mate,” Ron said as he too showed Harry his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. 

 

Harry slammed his book shut and stuffed it back into his bag. “It couldn’t have just disappeared!” 

 

“Ernie was sitting with you guys, right?” She asked. “Maybe he picked it up?” 

 

Harry considered this for a moment, though the thought of it didn’t cheer him up. “Maybe,” He mumbled. 

 

Professor McGonagall swept in a moment later and told them to get out their quills and prepare to take notes. Harry didn’t have a choice but to drop the problem at hand for the time being, but Hermione knew all too well that he wasn’t going to let it go easily. 

  
  
  
  



	17. Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24! Don't forget, oeuvre24 is posting on her ff.net account!
> 
> I'm [avdubs] without internet at the moment which might affect the length of time until the next upload, please bear with us! Thank you guys always for the follows, faves and reviews!

Hermione had a spring in her step as she walked to Potions class on Thursday morning. She had left her first class of the day, Herbology, as soon as the bell signalled, and as a result, walked to Potions by herself. She couldn’t help but feel giddy over the fact that it would be the first Potions class since the start of sixth year, that she would come out on top instead of Harry.

 

As expected, Harry was furious over losing his book. He triple-checked both her and Ron’s copy of Advanced Potion-Making to make sure it definitely did not have the Half-Blood Prince’s handiwork included in it. Hermione had eavesdropped on Seamus and Dean in the common room that night and found out that Harry had practically tore through the boy’s dormitory, even going as far to try and look in the other boys’ personal storage. Seamus and Dean hadn’t known what Harry was looking for, but Hermione did, and she couldn’t believe that her best friend had become so dangerously obsessed with the text, so much so that he would invade his dorm-mates’ privacy.

 

Harry’s bad mood had kept up ever since then, and even in Herbology that morning, he had been moody and snappish, listening to Professor Sprout talk when normally, he would use that as a perfect time to talk to Ron using the Muffliato charm. Hermione only hoped that with the book out of his life, Harry could finally start focusing on more important things -- like learning how to excel in Potions without the help of an unknown ‘Prince’, and even more pressing matters such as how to gain Slughorn’s memory of a young Tom Riddle, as per Dumbledore’s request. Hermione hadn’t dare brought up the matter of Dumbledore’s meetings with Harry, not when she knew it would most likely end up in a fight neither of them wanted to have, causing them to part once more.

 

Her good mood faltered on the way to Potions as she thought briefly of how up and down her friendship with Harry and Ron had been since they started school back in September. It felt like too long ago that she and Ron had left the Hogwarts Express, worrying over Harry’s well being as they arrived at the castle without him. Maybe they should have taken that to be a sign of the worrisome school year that was to come.

 

When she rounded the corner to approach the Potions’ classroom, her lips twitched into a smile when she saw Draco, with his books held with one hand pressed to his thigh, leaning back against the stone wall, staring at nothing with a glazed look across his eyes. “Draco?” She asked quietly.

 

She watched as he regained focus of his surroundings, his grey eyes quickly snapping to hers before looking behind her and then to his left, checking that they were the only people in the hallway. “So?” He asked. “How pissed was Potter?” Although he smirked and drawled his question, Hermione could see how exhausted he was, and how forced it seemed that he acted in such a way.

 

Despite having Arithmancy the day before, a class they were both in, Hermione had attended alone, with Draco having disappeared all day, not even attending breakfast, lunch or dinner. Hermione had even went to their Room after dinner, hoping to find him, but when she arrived on the seventh floor, she decided to forgo her trip due to seeing two young Hufflepuff students standing together near where the Room of Requirement’s door would reveal itself.

 

“Very,” Hermione answered Draco’s question, deciding not to question him on his disappearance the day previous. “But he didn’t suspect me at all.’

 

“He didn’t?” Draco furrowed his brows.

 

Hermione shook her head. “I thought he would have,” she shrugged. “I guess he just--” Her sentence was cut short when Draco looked over her shoulder and his stare hardened. It was lucky they hadn’t stood close to each other, as Zabini, Parkinson and Nott rounded the corner -- together as to be expected --, but in a move that surprised Hermione, did not approach Draco. Nor did they even glance in his direction. Hermione looked back at Draco and raised an eyebrow and saw him give a faint shake of his head. “ _Room_?” She mouthed to him. She watched his eyes dart to his housemates behind her before he returned her gaze and nodded.

 

The bell rang to announce the start of class, and right on time, Slughorn opened the classroom door and ushered everyone inside. Hermione managed to get in first and sat at her normal table, and was surprised when both Harry and Ron joined her too. She watched as Harry took out his textbook with a bitter expression on his face, and when her eyes darted across the room to the Slytherin table, she saw Draco smirking down at his own things. She had to look away when the urge to smile became stronger. Despite feeling terrible that she and Draco had destroyed Harry’s book, her excitement was much stronger, knowing that she would come out on top that lesson, and finally get the appreciation and praise she deserved.

 

Professor Slughorn told them all which potion they would be making, and Hermione sprung to action, setting up her cauldron and organising her ingredients. She glanced at Harry now and again, noticing how he slammed down a few things harder than he needed to, and how he spoke to Ron under his breath with furrowed brows. She could tell that he was getting worried to ruin his reputation with Slughorn. Hermione knew that she was further ahead than Harry and Ron as the class wore on, as while her potion had turned a deep orange colour, Harry was still stirring his to turn to green -- one of the first steps in the recipe.

 

Laughter from the other side of the room made Hermione look up from her potion, and what she saw sparked a slight twist of jealousy inside her, that she would never admit to. Zabini was laughing as he spoke to Draco, who was smiling down at his potion and shaking his head. Parkinson was laughing too, not bothering to continue making her potion, and Nott was covering his mouth with his hand to smother his mirth. It was clear that the success in ruining Harry’s chances of succeeding in class had brightened up Draco’s outlook, as he was happily associating with his housemates, laughing with them and joking, which was something he never would have done weeks previous. Draco’s eyes met hers when he looked up, and she watched as the corner of his lip twitched, his smile faltering, before he looked at Zabini who nudged him and, presumably, told him another hilarious tale.

 

Filled with an annoyance and slight anger she didn’t think she had the right to be possessing, Hermione turned back to her potion and stirred angrily, adding in the next few ingredients as the recipe called for. She managed to finish, with moments to spare, and when Slughorn said he would be checking everyone’s work, she wasn’t surprised that he walked straight to Harry. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as she watched Slughorn’s happy expression fade into one of concern as he looked into Harry’s cauldron and saw a lumpy yellow liquid, completely different to what the potion was meant to look like. Professor Slughorn continued his walk around the classroom, looking into everyone’s cauldrons and making comments here and there. He stopped at Draco and raised his eyebrows and gave Draco one pat on the shoulder and then awarded him five points to Slytherin, for a “pure and smooth potion.” Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing that the gesture would swell Draco’s ego larger than it should be.

 

Hermione’s was the last potion to be looked at by Slughorn, and a grin split her face when Slughorn smiled upon seeing her concoction. “A perfect potion, Miss Granger,” he praised. “The perfect consistency and colour. Well done; ten points to Gryffindor.” She was too busy smiling as she packed up her things, to notice Harry and Ron whisper to each other and leave without even bidding her goodbye.

 

* * *

 

“Did you see Slughorn’s face?!” Hermione exclaimed as she lowered her book bag to the ground, and practically jogged across the room to stand in front of Draco.

 

“He wasn’t bloody expecting that,” Draco chuckled, and her heart swelled when she saw his smile reached his eyes -- something that was happening less and less these days. “I’m surprised Potter didn’t offer some weak excuse.”

 

“He could hardly do that with everyone watching,” Hermione said and rocked back on her heels. Her grin was wide and her cheeks flushed as she looked at him, “We finally did it. What we’ve been waiting for all year.”

 

“I wasn’t expecting to get points from it,” Draco admitted and sat down on the couch. She noticed his shoes were already off when he put his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table.

 

“It was an added surprise,” Hermione agreed, and toed off her own shoes to sit on the couch and pull her feet up onto the cushions. “I think Slughorn must have thought we’d done the impossible by making a better potion than Harry.”

 

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes, resting his head back. He turned to look at her and quirked the corner of his lips up. “It only took us weeks of planning, one failed attempt, and a bandaged hand,” he looked at her right hand which was still wrapped up in a white bandage, protecting her healing skin from when she’d been burnt by her botched potion.

 

“Hah-hah,” she said sarcastically, and placed her hands on her lap. She pretended not to notice his eyes following her hands movement, taking a second to look back up at her face again. She cleared her throat and then looked at the coffee table. “I think this calls for a celebration!” She said and a few seconds later, a silver tray appeared before them. A pot of tea, two mugs, and a plate of biscuits sat upon the tray, and Hermione leaned forward to pour them both a drink.

 

“Only you would think that tea is an appropriate celebration drink,” Draco drawled, but leaned forward to pick up two biscuits from the plate. He sat back and passed one to her. “To our success and intelligence,” he raised the biscuit with a smirk.

 

Hermione laughed and held the biscuit in her hand and raised it up too. “To our success and intelligence,” she repeated and tapped her biscuit to his and then took a bite as he did. She covered her mouth as she chewed and watched as Draco ate his and then wiped the crumbs off of his fingers by rubbing his hands on his trousers. When she looked back to his face, she saw that he was looking at her with a peculiar smile, and she blushed after realising she’d been staring at his hands while he’d known about it.

 

She tried to act casual -- failing miserably -- and leaned off the couch to grab her bag. “So, I think we should work on our Arithmancy homework,” she said suddenly and withdrew her book and parchment.

 

As she busied herself organising her things, she didn’t notice Draco watching her. His smile wasn’t as wide as before, but it was still there, teasing at the corner of his lips as he watched her gather her things. “Good idea,” he murmured and then broke his gaze to collect his things from his own bag.

 

* * *

 

Draco was nowhere to be found the following day. Following their small celebration in their Room the day before, Hermione had been in high spirits for the duration of her remaining classes. After carefully planning how to leave their Room without being seen, they both made their way to Ancient Runes separately, but sat together at their usual desk in the back of the classroom. Parting ways after class was the last that Hermione had seen of Draco, as she ate lunch and headed straight to Charms afterwards. She tried to revisit the Room that night after dinner, but to no avail as there were two students lingering in the hallway where the door was located, and there wasn’t a chance that Hermione could pace and enter the Room without being seen by them.

 

That day, the only class she shared with Draco was Potions at the end of the day, but her worry over his well being began much earlier than that class. She had planned to try and meet up with him on their morning break, and then again at lunch time. Despite looking in the library, out on the grounds, and back up to try and enter the Room of Requirement -- which she couldn’t to do without the risk of being seen --, she couldn’t find Draco at all. Her annoyance was only cemented further when he didn’t attend Potions, and a glance at his usual table showed that she wasn’t the only person angered by his disappearance. She had been tempted to follow Zabini and Parkinson, who walked closely together and spoke quietly upon leaving class, but decided against it quickly when she received a glare from Parkinson who knew she had been watching them.

 

Resigned to the fact that Draco would not be making an appearance anywhere that day, Hermione went to the library instead of continuing to look for him. The next several hours were spent divided between completing her Potions’ homework for the day, and then finding books on protective wards, and defensive spells that would assist her, Harry and Ron. Madam Pince was the one to come to Hermione’s table and tell her the library was closing for the night, and only then did Hermione realise how tired she was and how heavy her eyes felt. She checked out the two new books she’d found on wards, and slowly made her way up the many flights of stairs to return to the Gryffindor Tower.

 

“Harry?” She questioned once she entered the common room and saw Harry sitting by himself at a table that was tucked away from everything else. “Is everything okay?” She asked, as by his expression, he looked increasingly worried.

 

She had jolted him out of his thoughts and he stared up at her once she was standing next to him. “Hermione,” he greeted and then shook his head. “I’m just confused, is all.”

 

Hermione furrowed her brows and shrugged her bag straps off her shoulders and lowered her bag to the ground. “Confused about what?” She asked, taking the seat beside him.

 

“I know you’re not going to want to hear this,” he said. Hermione sighed and her shoulders dropped slightly. By the tone of his voice, she knew exactly what he’d be telling her about, but instead of arguing and interrupting, she let him speak. It took him a few moments to gauge her reaction before he started to talk. “I was coming to the common room yesterday after our morning break and I almost ran into Malfoy. Literally,” Harry spoke and Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. “He didn’t see me, but he looked...happy. Like something happened that he’s glad about.”

 

“You saw him after morning break?” Hermione clarified.

 

“Close to,” Harry nodded. “It was just before the bell rang for classes.” Hermione sighed and looked at the knots in the wooden table instead of looking at Harry. He wasn’t mistaken. It was at that time the day before that she and Draco had left their Room, with Draco leaving after her so they could get to Ancient Runes without being seen together. “I’m telling you,” Harry’s voice broke her thoughts, “He’s done something that he’s happy about. He’s succeeded in doing something bad, I just know it.”

 

Hermione wanted to tell Harry that he was outrageously incorrect. But how could she tell him that the whole reason for Draco’s chipper attitude was because they had spent time together in the Room, toasting biscuits together and drinking tea, laughing over shared disaster stories from Potions classes over the years. “Harry, you need to rethink this,” she said instead, choosing her words carefully. “You don’t know why he was happy. He might have just gotten a good mark on his homew--”

 

“He hasn’t been doing homework,” Harry interrupted her sharply. “I heard Professor McGonagall telling him off for it.”

 

“You’re following him now?” Hermione asked, trying to act confused, but inside, was panicking. If Harry had been following Draco, there was no way she would be able to hide the fact that he had been meeting up with her.

 

“No,” Harry answered. “I was walking past her classroom when I heard,” he said.

 

Hermione pursed her lips and drummed her fingers on the table once. “You can’t keep getting caught up in what Malfoy’s doing every day,” she told him.

 

Harry furrowed his brows and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve got to finish my homework,” he said after a pregnant pause, and faced the table.

 

Hermione got the hint and stood up from her chair. She leaned down to pick up her book bag, and just before she turned to head to the girls’ dormitory, she spoke. “You need to be thinking about yourself, Harry,” she said. “There are more important things for you to be thinking about rather than if Malfoy looks happy or not. For one, you still haven’t managed to get Slughorn’s memory for Professor Dumbledore, and you know for a fact that--”

 

Harry’s voice cut her off, but he didn’t look away from the table. “Night, Hermione.”

 

Her jaw clenched as she stared at her best friend. She straightened her back and slung her bag strap over her shoulder and walked away, not even bothering to say goodnight to him at all.

 

* * *

 

Hermione felt as if she didn’t speak one word to anyone that weekend. She attended both breakfast, lunch and dinner in the Great Hall with everyone else and watched every person that entered and exited the room, waiting to see if Draco would be one of those people. He didn’t show; not once.

 

Her time spent in the Great Hall was time spent alone. She noticed, quite easily, whenever Harry and Ron came to meals, the latter would lean close to Harry, whispering something as they both looked her way. They had never been the most subtle people. It wasn’t hard to realise what Ron whispered about, as every time he did so, they would sit as far from her as possible.

 

The ball of guilt that she had felt in her stomach had only been small after taking Harry’s potion book, but now was swollen to the size of a watermelon. She knew Harry’s mood had been severely impacted on by the loss of his textbook, and the Prince’s helpful tips, and her run-in with him earlier in the week hadn’t done anything to help the situation of their crumbling friendship. She felt terrible.

 

She didn’t _want_ things to be like this. She wanted to be helping Harry, and being by his side, as she belonged, but things were difficult. _Too_ difficult. Her guilt only rose higher every time she saw Ron be whisked away by Lavender, leaving Harry to his own devices. If there was anything Hermione knew for sure, it was that during this time of his life, Harry needed as little time as possible being able to sit and stew in his own mind.

 

By the time Monday rolled around, Hermione realised that she couldn’t remember having any sort of conversation with anyone at all besides the occasional request to pass something to her at the dinner table, but that had been directed to younger students she didn’t even know the name of. The thought was jarring, but she held out hope that Draco would be in attendance for their first period class of Ancient Runes. She gave up glancing at the door ten minutes into the lesson, resigning to the fact that he wouldn’t be showing.

 

He was also a no show at Arithmancy after morning break, and then Potions at the end of the day, where she had to sit by herself at a workbench to copy down the theoretical work Slughorn had set the class. The only thing that alerted Hermione to knowing she wasn’t the only one to notice Draco’s absence, was hearing some heated words exchanged between Zabini and Parkinson as they left the classroom at the end of the day. Hermione had plucked up enough courage to discretely follow them as they left the Potions’ classroom, but her quest had been interrupted when Theodore Nott came from behind her and bumped his arm against hers, pushing her to the side as he strode past and called out to the two Slytherin’s she had been trying to follow. She was quick to leave, not wanting an incident to occur between herself and those three, especially in the deserted dungeon corridors.

 

By the next day, her worry had mounted to frustration as Draco didn’t show for their Ancient Runes lesson after morning break. She had spent the majority of the class staring at her paper, not taking any notes or listening to a word the Professor spoke, but thinking of what in Merlin’s name had made Draco disappear for nearing almost a week. When the bell rang, Hermione concluded that the only rational reason for his longest absence yet, was that something must have happened at his home and he’d had to leave Hogwarts for a short time a result. For her free period after Ancient Runes, she made her way to the Infirmary, wanting to get the horrible bandages off her hands, as they were only causing her a nuisance and an annoying reminder of her failure to concentrate, and of her failed attempt to get Harry’s textbook stolen. Madam Pomfrey was the only person Hermione spoke to that day, and even then, it was only a few words; nothing that one could class as a conversation.

 

When she had been excused to leave the Infirmary, with two un-bandaged, but still scarred, hands, her brain seemed to have jolted to life as when she reached the large doors to exit, one opened to reveal someone coming in. Draco looked worse for wear, with a pale face, holding one hand to his stomach and she could see the marks on his skin. “What did you do?” She hissed, walking closer to him.

 

He avoided her eyes, staring over her shoulder, and tried to walk forward, but she put her hand on his chest to force him to stop. Draco released a sigh and then looked at her, with cold, lifeless eyes. “I was working on something,” he answered, his voice hollow. Hermione stared up at him, still partly in shock over his appearance, and didn’t say a word. “Can you let me get past you now?”

 

Hermione took in a breath and stepped to the side and her arm dropped. She didn’t turn to watch him approach Madam Pomfrey, and instead, left through the doors but stopped to lean against the wall. It took half an hour before Draco came back through the doors, and the bell for lunch was about to ring at any moment. She met his eyes when he left the Infirmary, and quickly walked up to him. “Care to tell me where you’ve been?” She asked, quickening her stride when he decided that walking fast was the best way to go.

 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he spoke, and she looked up at him, expecting his signature smirk. His face was blank. Tired.

 

“Just try then,” Hermione spoke, her voice much less harsh than it had been moments before.

 

Draco shook his head. “No, Granger.”

 

His tone made her shut her mouth, not wanting to argue. Not when he was like this. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Should we go to the Room?” She suggested.

 

“No.” He spoke quickly, leaving no room for argument. His quick answer shocked her, but she didn’t say anything about it. “Not there,” he said.

 

“Right…”

 

They walked in silence for a few minutes and reached a staircase. “The library?” He suggested, and stopped to look at her.

 

Hermione didn’t bother hiding her smile, and nodded. Despite his disappearance, he still wanted to spend time with her. She didn’t care for what reason; hell, she didn’t need a reason. For the first time in many days, she looked forward to the coming hours ahead of her.

 

* * *

 

Hermione forced herself to look up from her Ancient Runes’ homework. “If I keep looking at this, I’m going to forget how to read English,” she groaned and leaned against the back of the couch. Draco made a quiet noise, like he forced out a breath that could resemble a laugh. She looked at his back, as he sat perched on the edge of the couch, leaning forward to the coffee table to do his own homework. He hadn’t been talkative at all, ever since he’d entered their Room about an hour after she had. She had tried to speak to him, but his responses had been short, so she hadn’t pushed anything, and the both of them had worked on their homework in silence.

 

She didn’t hide her concern anymore, and leaned forward, letting her hands rest on her knees. “Is everything okay?” She asked tentatively. It had been four days since they had ran into each other in the Infirmary, and while Draco had attended his classes and they had spent time together in their Room and at their table in the library, he still looked just as tired and worn as he did when she’d almost ran into him after getting her bandages removed.

 

She saw his quill stop moving, and he nodded his head. “Mm-hm,” he hummed, unconvincingly.

 

“Are you sure?” She asked and then chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t want to push you to talk about anything you don’t want to, but… I know something’s wrong, Draco. I’m not blind.”

 

When he sat up straight, she thought that perhaps he was going to tell her what was wrong. Her suspicions were incorrect, however, when he moved back to sit properly on the couch, and looked at her hands which still rest on her knees. “You should have been more careful with the potion. If it was a bigger amount that hit you, it would have done even more damage.”

 

Hermione’s brows furrowed. He couldn’t have changed the subject any more obviously if he had tried. She too looked down at her hands, one with faint burn scars from her potion mishap to try and steal Harry’s book, and the other with fading red marks from her run-in with the plant in Herbology that had a shockingly strong grip. “It’s done now,” she said, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

 

Draco stared at her hands, not even lifting his gaze to look at her when she spoke. She almost spoke again, but snapped her mouth shut when his hands moved forward. He picked up her right hand -- the hand closest to him -- so delicately, as if it was made out of glass. His thumb moved across the largest burn scar she had, across the back of her hand, and then his touch continued to trace a scar that ran along the inside of her ring finger.

 

Hermione hadn’t even realised that she had been holding her breath until her heart thundered in her chest, screaming at her to inhale. Draco noticed her sharp breath, and his thumb stilled. “It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t hurt now,” he said after several moments. Her hand still rest in his palm, his thumb mere millimetres from her skin. “It hurt in the moment. It could have been avoided. The plan never involved hurting anyone, let alone you, Granger.”

 

She was stuck for words. Her lips were slightly parted as she stared at him. He still hadn’t met her eyes, and she knew he was doing it on purpose. She fought the urge to twitch her fingers, as she wasn’t used to anyone having their hand that close to hers, let alone tracing their fingers along her skin. “It’s alright,” she reassured him after finding her voice. She moved her hand slowly and ran the tip of her index finger along a small fading white scar on his right hand. “This doesn’t hurt you anymore, does it?”

 

“It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t hurt at the moment,” he repeated and pulled his hands away and she watched as he wrung his fingers together before standing up. “Scars come from enduring pain. Pain isn’t hard to forget.”

 

Hermione opened her mouth to respond but paused when he began to shove his books and papers into his book bag. “Where are you going?” She asked and stood up too.

 

“The common room,” Draco answered. “I should put my things away,” he said and slung his bag strap over his shoulder and turned to the door.

 

“But dinner isn’t for another half an hour,” Hermione said, and ignored the way her brain scolded her for sounding too clingy.

 

“I have rounds afterwards,” he spoke and walked away from her and put one hand on the doorknob. “I’ll...see you, Granger.”

 

Hermione didn’t even have time to say goodbye to him, even if she’d planned on it, as he had opened the door and left quicker than she could react. She let out a breath and sunk back down onto the couch and stared at the space he had just left.

 

Not once, she realised, had he looked her in the eyes since the moment they’d sat together on the couch. Not once.

 

* * *

 

“Tomorrow…” Hermione murmured to herself once she’d finished reading the note on the notice board in the Gryffindor common room. The note had said that the Hogsmeade trip would be on Saturday, the next day, and Hermione knew that she needed to go. Not by herself, and not to shop or have a warm butterbeer, but to practice with Harry and Ron what they had been severely neglecting ever since the incident with the Half-Blood Prince’s textbook had occurred, and that was the practicing of defensive spells and protective enchantments.

 

She still hadn’t spoken to her friends the entire week even though they saw each other around a lot. There was no way for them to fully avoid her, due to them sharing some classes, and being in the same house. It had been bearable when she had Draco to see whenever she could, but he hadn’t been seen around for the past two days. Hermione decided that she needed to be the first one to act with Harry and Ron, because if not, she had a feeling the boys would go to Hogsmeade, but with no plans in mind of practicing what they needed to.

 

Hermione stepped away from the notice board and turned around to look at everyone in the common room. Each student was relaxing, or completing school work, or talking with their friends, but Ron and Harry were nowhere to be seen. She didn’t want to wait around in the common room until the bell went to announce that dinner was being served, so she looked around until she spotted a familiar face. “Parvati?” She asked as she drew closer to the girl.

 

Parvati had been sitting on an armchair with a textbook in her hands, and looked up at the sound of her name. Hermione saw the confusion on the other girl’s face as she came near, and Hermione didn’t blame her. They really didn’t talk at all even though they had shared a dormitory together for six years. It wasn’t through active choice… Hermione just didn’t know what to say to the girl, and she guessed it was the same on the opposite side. “Hermione? Is everything okay?” She asked and closed her textbook.

 

“It’s fine,” Hermione smiled. “I was just wondering if you’d seen Harry and Ron anywhere?” She had figured that because Ron was spending so much time with Lavender, that their presence would be known around the common room, especially by Lavender’s best friend.

 

Her suspicions proved correctly. “They both went to their dormitories about ten minutes ago,” Parvati said.

 

“Thanks,” Hermione smiled again and turned away from her and headed to the staircase that would take her to the boy’s dormitory. It had felt like so long since she had last done this; walk to their room to talk to them. A part of her was worried over what their reaction would be, and if they would be angry that she was talking to them after they had so obviously been trying to avoid her. She shook her head slightly and steeled herself for whatever would come, but just as she got to the door she would be entering, a voice stopped her.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Lavender’s shrill voice shouted.

 

Hermione’s eyebrows raised and she turned her head to see the girl storming up the last few steps towards her. “I need to see--”

 

“Ron. I know,” Lavender glared.

 

“What?” Hermione asked in confusion. “Lavender, I know that you--”

 

“Parvati told me you asked where Ron was!” Lavender argued. “Are you going to see him?”

 

Hermione’s mouth was open for few seconds before she gathered her wits enough to answer “Well, yes, but I need to see Harry t--”

 

“Why do you want to visit Ron in his bedroom?” Lavender snapped, cutting her off again. She took one more step towards Hermione and narrowed her eyes. “Well?!”

 

“I need to talk to him and Harry!” Hermione snapped back. “Now if you would stop shouting and let me get to my _friends_ , that would be lovely.”

 

“You’re not looking for his friendship,” Lavender snarled, “I know what you want from him. Give it up, Granger. He chose _me_ over you. He doesn’t want you, I thought that was easy to notice.”

 

Hermione knew that Lavender was implying that she still had romantic feelings towards Ron. Although, what Lavender didn’t know, was that Hermione hadn’t felt that way for quite some time. That wasn’t why the girl’s words made Hermione freeze, though. No. No matter the reason, Ron _didn’t_ want her as a friend, and he was pulling Harry along to act the same way. Hermione couldn’t care less that Ron was in relationship -- her younger self, yes, but not now --, but she did care that her friendship was being thrown in the dirt ever since that relationship had started.

 

Her silence had visibly shocked Lavender, who hadn’t said another word to her either. Hermione sniffed slightly and took a step away from the dormitory door and walked past her own dorm-mate, not giving her a second glance.

 

“Wait, Hermione,” Lavender called out, but Hermione ignored her. “Hermione, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” Hermione grit her teeth and stared down at the stairs as she walked. “Hermione, I didn’t mean that!” Lavender called from the top of the stairs, but Hermione continued to ignore her.

 

She knew where she wanted to go. She knew who she wanted to see.

 

She just couldn’t believe that _he_ was the one she wanted for comfort. _He_ was the one to give her the friendship that her supposed best friends were meant to.

 

She just wanted _him_.

 

* * *

 

Hermione’s fingers curled around the straps of her book bag as she walked quickly along the seventh floor corridors to get to her destination, hoping that when she arrived, she could enter the Room quickly. She ignored the stares of several students as she stormed past, and finally reached the stretch of wall where the Room was hidden.

 

She was so caught up in her anger, that she almost didn’t realise there were two younger students standing huddled together, looking nervous and twitchy. She didn’t notice them, in fact, until one of them dropped their bag, and out clattered some scales used in Potions class. “What are you doing here?” Hermione snapped at them, not even caring that she must have scared the young girls. She turned to look at them fully and took a step forward, her face flushed in anger. “You should be in class, not standing around in corridors! Five points from…” She looked at the emblem on their school robes, “From Hufflepuff,” she finished. “Both of you! Go to class!”

 

The two girls didn’t say a word, but scuttled away looking terrified. Hermione let out a shaky breath and groaned. Her thoughts were turning constantly, replaying every scene of her terrible week in her head, over and over. She covered her hands over her face and leaned back against the wall across from where the Room was, and tried to breathe steadily to calm herself down. She was glad that no other student decided to walk along that corridor, because she knew that she wouldn’t be able to contain her anger if they did. “Stop,” Hermione whispered to herself, her voice shaking. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes and gritted her teeth together until her jaw ached.

 

She didn’t even register the sound of agitated stone until she heard a door opening. She dropped her hands from her face and stared with wide eyes as Draco appeared from the large doors that led into the Room of Requirement. She didn’t say a word, but stared at him with her mouth slightly parted. She’d never seen him look so disheveled. His hair was a mess, hanging loose with bits of his fringe brushing against his eyebrows. His eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles beneath, and his tie hung loose around his neck, his jumper nowhere to be seen. He stared back at her without speaking a word, and let the door click shut behind him, and the stone sounded as it covered the appearance of the door once more.

 

By the time Hermione snapped out of her stare to actually speak to him, Draco had turned to walk away from her. “Where have you been?” She asked loudly, her voice causing him to stop.

 

“Why does it matter?” He asked, not facing her. She could see his shoulders tighten and his fingers curl into fists by his sides.

 

“Because I haven’t seen you in two days,” she said, anger rising within her again. “I haven’t seen you at any meals, and I can never get into our Room since there always seems to be someone around. Where have you been?” She snapped.

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

“It does!” Hermione argued and took a step towards him, and the sound of her moving forward caused him to turn around.

 

His look was venomous and she watched his lip curl into a sneer. “Why do you care?”

 

Her mouth snapped shut and her fingers tightened on her bag straps. “You should know why I care,” she answered, trying to return as much venom as she could. “The least you could do is find me to tell me that you’d be pulling another disappearing act and--”

 

“Shut up,” he snarled and turned away from her and started to walk in the other direction.

 

“Don’t walk away from me!” Hermione yelled and followed him just as quickly. “Draco!” She snapped and almost ran into his chest when he stopped suddenly and turned to face her.

 

“ _Stop_ following me,” he said lowly and glared at her. Her heart thumped in her chest; it had been too long since she had last received that sort of look from him.

 

She held her ground, however. “Why were you in our Room?” She asked him. “You could have told me so we could have met up.”

 

“I don’t need to tell you,” he answered and turned away from her.

  
“Stop turning your back on me!” She called after him, but didn’t make a move to follow him again.

 

He didn’t even turn his head to look back at her, nor did his steps falter in the slightest. “Stop thinking you have any control over me, Granger,” he shouted. “Stick to what you know instead of getting involved in what I’m doing.”

 

Hermione stared after him, watching him round the corner and disappear from her view. How could she have been so stupid to think that he was over being cruel to her? It took her a few moments to come back to her senses and turn to the wall, thinking of their Room. When the door appeared, she pushed it open with all her might, and entered, not planning on leaving until much later that night. She tried not to think about him…

 

Which failed miserably.


	18. Breakthrough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me! Thanks to my co-author, oeuvre24, for posting for me last week while I had no internet. 
> 
> Before you read, we'd like to take a moment to remind everyone that every person goes through a period of feeling defeated or get into a funk. And though a character may appear weak, it does mean they will remain that way. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read this, continues to, reviews and shows their support in any way. Your reviews and asks on tumblr and love for this fic make it easier to continue writing it! So thank you so much, truly.

On Monday morning, Hermione saw that the grounds had been covered by several feet of snow and dark clouds hung overhead. The Great Hall was full of excited chatter due to the weather. Dean and Seamus were talking of having a snowball fight during lunch and others quickly agreed. Soon, nearly all of Gryffindor table was discussing the idea.  Hermione scanned The Daily Prophet, looking for any familiar names and tried her best to ignore the babbling of her classmates. When none popped out at her, she sighed in relief. She went to reach for another piece of toast, when she felt a tap on her shoulder and she whipped her head around to see a first year Slytherin standing in front of her, holding a scroll of parchment. 

 

“Excuse me?” the first year said. “Are you Hermione Granger?” 

 

“Yes,” she answered hesitantly. 

 

The girl handed her the parchment. “I was asked to give this to you.” 

 

Hermione gave the girl a warm smile and thanked her. The girl beamed back at her before returning to her table. Hermione’s eyes followed the girl, before she took the chance to scan the Slytherin table. When Hermione saw Draco sitting at the very opposite end of his house table, completely alone, her heart fluttered, but that soon turned to worry as she watched him read some sort of book, without a plate anywhere near him. How long had it been since he'd last eaten a meal?

 

She sighed and turned to face her table once more. When she felt something slip from her hand, she remembered the scroll of parchment the first year had given her. She bent down and quickly retrieved it before unscrolling and scanning it. Dumbledore wanted her to come by his office that night at eight o’clock. She bit her lip and slipped the parchment into her bag. He probably wanted to talk to her about Draco, they’d never really discussed anything else aside from Harry, but Harry hadn’t had a meeting with Dumbledore for weeks now. 

 

Hermione heard the familiar rush of owls flying in to deliver the post, and she looked up just in time to see an eagle owl soar towards its owner. The large bird landed in front of Draco with a rectangular brown package tied to its leg. Draco’s face lit up as he removed the package and gave his owl some treats. Hermione furrowed her brow in thought. What was he so excited about? 

 

The bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast. Hermione stuffed her belongings into her bag quickly, double checked that she had everything, and left the table without waiting to see if Harry and Ron would find her in the crowd. She was much more eager to get to Ancient Runes and see Draco, and to possibly find out what was in the package he had received this morning. 

 

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she couldn’t really deny that Draco was up to something. She had done a lot of thinking over the weekend, having spent the majority of it alone. Thinking back on everything that she had witnessed this year, it was impossible to ignore that there was something going on with him. She had no idea what it could be, but there was one thing that she knew for certain: whatever it was Draco was so busy doing these days, it was practically killing him. He wasn’t eating or sleeping properly, he’d lost weight since the beginning of the year, and he was practically as pale as the snow outside. She couldn’t just sit back anymore and let him shirk her concerns. She was a concerned friend.  _ Just a concerned friend _ , she told herself as she entered the classroom. 

 

Hermione settled in at their table, but twenty minutes into the lesson, the seat beside her was still empty. They were supposed to be reading, but all Hermione could do was stew in her frustration and disappointment. 

 

Her next class -- Defense Against the Dark Arts -- dragged on, and Hermione was at the edge of her seat, waiting for the bell to dismiss them. Professor Snape assigned them their homework and sent them on their way. Hermione was out the door before the rest of the class had even put away their books, and even though Harry was shouting after her, she didn’t stop. 

 

She checked the library first, but wasn’t surprised when she didn’t see Draco anywhere. It wasn’t often as of late, that she would find him in the library. She practically ran to the familiar stretch of the seventh floor corridor. Neville had tried to stop and chat, but she had brushed him off and took the stairs two at a time. When she arrived at the blank stretch of wall, she was glad to see that at least there was no one guarding the door, but when she paced in front of the door and thought of their room, the wall remained blank. Hermione scowled at the stone and hiked her bag higher up her shoulder. _Let’s try again_ , she thought. 

 

* * *

 

 

Her twelve attempts to get into the Room of the Requirement were futile, and after she had kicked the wall in frustration, she had been left with ten minutes left of her break period. Draco hadn’t shown for double Arithmancy, nor had he been at lunch or double Potions. By the time Hermione returned to the dorm early that evening, she was positively livid. Harry nor Ron were anywhere to be seen, and the other Gryffindors seemed to pay her no mind as she slouched onto a chair by the fire. Except for one. 

 

“Hermione?” Neville said uncertainly, with Trevor sitting on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” 

 

Hermione didn’t answer at first. She stared up at the tall, round ceiling and forced herself to take several deep breaths. “I’m just stressed, that’s all,” She said after a moment. 

 

Neville sat down opposite her and offered her a crooked smile. “Want to come down to the Greenhouses with me?” He asked eagerly. “I have a key. Professor Sprout gave me one at the beginning of term. I go in and tend to the plants sometimes and--”

 

Her eyes caught the clock and she all but jumped out of her seat when she realized the time. She was supposed to be at Dumbledore’s office in five minutes. Hermione grabbed her bag and slipped on her shoes again.

 

“Sorry, Neville. I can’t, I--I’ve got a meeting with Professor Vector,” She lied as she pushed her hair out of her face. 

 

When she glanced over at Neville, her face fell at the disappointed look on his face. She clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled down at him. “Thank you, Neville. For offering.”

 

“O’course,” He replied and smiled back at her. 

 

Hermione dashed from the common room before Neville could say another word. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione burst into Professor Dumbledore’s office almost ten minutes late and completely out of breath. The elder wizard smiled at her, clearly amused as she sat down in the chair in front of his desk and pushed away her bushy hair. 

 

“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” She mumbled. 

 

“No matter at all, Miss Granger,” He said calmly, lacing his fingers together. “It has been a while since we’ve had a little chat.” 

 

Hermione stared curiously at the Headmaster. “Yes,” she said slowly. “It has.” 

 

Dumbledore inhaled sharply and leaned forward. His eyes twinkled in the candlelight of his office and Hermione swore she had never seen eyes so blue before. “Forgive me if I appear too curious in the affairs of my students, but I wanted to see how your friendship with Mister Malfoy was progressing,” He explained. 

 

She’d been expecting this. No... She had been  _ dreading  _ this. “Well,” she started, unsure of how to respond. “Things between us have been...rocky as of late.” 

 

Dumbledore nodded and sat back in his chair. “I see.” 

 

Hermione waited for him to say something, but when he merely sat there, she realized he was waiting for her to continue. She cleared her throat and fidgeted in her chair, trying to get comfortable. Her palms were starting to sweat. She wiped them off on her robes, but it was pointless. “He’s been absent a lot lately, Sir,” She said, the words pouring out of her mouth. “And he won’t tell me why or...he won’t tell me anything,” She said, quieter this time. 

 

Dumbledore didn’t say anything, much as she wished he would. Is that why he called her to her office? To hear her out but offer nothing in return? No explanations or words of advice? Was he just going to sit there and stare at her while she babbled on about her concerns? 

 

“Sir?” She said, a trace of annoyance to her tone. 

 

The Headmaster sighed heavily and fixed his spectacles, which had begun to slide down his large, crooked nose. “Miss Granger,” he began. “Mister Malfoy is in quite the predicament this year. And I sense, based on what you’ve told me,” he paused and smiled knowingly at her, “and on what I’ve happen to see, that Mister Malfoy has grown to care for you.” 

 

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. 

 

“And though he may try his best to push you away, you must not let him,” He said firmly. “Do you understand, Miss Granger?” 

 

Truthfully, no. She didn’t fully understand. There was only so much she could do. She couldn’t force Draco to tell her what was going on. She couldn’t force him to be with her every chance they got. She couldn’t force someone to keep her in their life. But on the other hand, how many times had Harry insisted on doing something dangerous alone? And how many of those times did she tell him he was being ridiculous; that he needed her? What was stopping her from doing the same to Draco? 

 

“Miss Granger?” Dumbledore repeated. 

 

Hermione shook her head, scattering her thoughts. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I understand.” 

 

When Hermione returned to the common room fifteen minutes later, she felt absolutely exhausted, even though her mind was reeling from her conversation with the Headmaster. Neville greeted her as she walked by, and she returned his wave before retreating to her dormitory and flopping down on top of the covers. It wasn’t long before her eyes drifted shut and she fell into a restless sleep. 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Hermione came down to the common room to find all the sixth and seventh years gathered around the notice board, talking excitedly. 

 

“What’s going on?” She asked Seamus. 

 

“Apparition lessons!” He told her with a gleam in his eye. “First lesson is this Saturday in the Great Hall.” 

 

“Really?” She asked and made her way through the crowd to see for herself. “Hm...” She mumbled after reading the announcement. Normally, the knowledge of learning apparition would excite her to no end, but she was worried about other things.  Or rather, she was worried about someone. 

 

After pushing her way out of the crowd, she fetched her bag and headed down to the Great Hall. She sat by what she assumed were a couple of second years, shoved down a few pieces of toast and promptly left right as Harry and Ron were making their way to the table to have their breakfast. She nodded at the pair of them, and they both returned her greeting, though Ron’s was stiff and short. 

 

Her classes passed by quickly that day, and there was still no sign of Draco. She gave up waiting to see if he would arrive to first period Potions and instead focused on brewing a potion Slughorn would be proud of. She did, successfully, and at the end of the lesson, earned a hearty twenty points to Gryffindor and a pat on the back from Slughorn. 

 

For her free period, she headed to library to put the finishing touches on her fifteen inch Transfiguration essay. She had barely even glanced at her essay when she heard footsteps approach and a shadow fell over her table. When she looked up, she saw Harry looking down at her, shuffling his feet and looking slightly uncomfortable. “Hi,” she said and gestured to the other chairs.

 

Harry mumbled a thanks and sat down across from her. Before he could say a word, Hermione set down her quill and looked him squarely in the eye. 

 

“I’m not your enemy, Harry,” She said flatly. “I’m your best friend. And I want to be there for you--”

 

“I know,” He said quietly, not meeting her gaze. 

 

Hermione sighed heavily and pushed her essay out of the way. “I’m sorry you lost the Prince’s book,” She said, even though she didn’t mean it in the slightest. She was glad the book was gone. “But Harry, there are more important things you... _ we  _ need to worry about.” 

 

Harry nodded vigorously. “You’re right,” He said before clearly his throat. Hermione sat back in her seat and pulled her hair into a ponytail while Harry toyed with her quill. She sat back in her seat then crossed her arms over her chest. “Hermione,” he sighed and ruffled a hand through his hair. “I--this year has not gone like I expected it to.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. She slapped a hand to her mouth when Harry shot her a strange look. “I’m sorry,” she said, before another giggle escaped. “It’s just...none of our years go how we expect, do they?” 

 

Harry let out a small chuckle and threw down her quill. “I suppose you’re right.” 

 

“Of course I am,” She said with a smirk. 

 

Silence fell between them and Harry didn’t move. Instead, he took out his books and quill and parchment. Hermione watched him, a smile forming on her lips. When he was finished, he looked up at her with one eyebrow raised. 

 

“You can stay, but only if you actually work on homework,” She said with a small laugh and shake of her head. “I’ve still got to edit this essay.” 

 

She had only gotten through the first paragraph when Harry said her name again. She looked up at him, slightly exasperated and laid down her quill. “Yes?” 

 

“I’m sorry about… You know....” He mumbled. 

 

“Ignoring me?” She finished for him. 

 

Harry looked down into his lap. “Yeah,” He replied. 

 

Hermione laid her hand on top of his and gave it a squeeze. “It’s alright.” 

 

For the first time in what felt like months, and probably was, Hermione and Harry sat in the library and worked on their homework until the bell rang for lunch, and on the way down to the Great Hall, as she and Harry laughed at something he had said, she smiled genuinely for the first time in days. At least she had one of her best friends back. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione went into her double Arithmancy class Wednesday morning not expecting Draco to be in attendance, but the first thing she saw when she entered the classroom was his grey eyes staring right at her. Remembering what Dumbledore had said about not letting him push her away, Hermione made her way over to his table and sat down next to him. 

 

“Nice of you to show today,” She snapped. 

 

“I only came because I had to,” He mumbled back to her. 

 

“Draco--” She began, but Professor Vector had begun her lecture. 

 

Draco made a shushing noise with his mouth and pressed a finger to his lips. She scowled at him, and to her surprise, he shot her an apologetic look. “I need to focus.” 

 

She nodded in understanding and turned her attention to their Professor. She wasn’t one to get in the way of other students and their studies. She did, however, scribble on a piece of parchment and slide it towards Draco. After a moment or so, he returned the parchment. She glanced down at his reply to her request to meet her in their room during break. 

 

_ Sure,  _ he had scrawled haphazardly below her initial question. 

 

Hermione let out a small sigh of relief, crumpled the piece of parchment and continued her note-taking. 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco didn’t share the same break period as her that day, so they were both forced to wait until their classes had finished for the day to meet up in their room. After a day filled with three double classes, her head was starting to pound and her back was aching from the books she had been lugging around all day. When she entered the room and saw that Draco was already there, sitting at the table, hunched over his homework, she stalked right over to him and whacked him as hard as she could on the arm. 

 

“Ow!” Draco shouted, whirling around to face her. “What the bloody hell was that for!” 

 

“You should know!” She hissed, leaning down towards him so their faces were mere inches from each other. “You disappear for practically a week, you were positively awful to me after I finally see you, and then you disappear again!” 

 

Draco sighed and rubbed at his temples. “We’ve discussed this--”

 

“No, we haven’t,” She interjected, her voice louder than his. 

 

He was standing now. They were so close she could smell his cologne. He  _ really  _ needed to stop wearing that. 

 

“ _ You  _ told me to leave you alone and walked off!” She snarled. “That’s not a discussion.” 

 

“Granger, you wouldn’t--”

 

“What?” She snapped. “I wouldn’t understand?  _ Try me.”  _

 

She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot against the floor. How dare he think she couldn’t handle whatever it was he’s been doing all year? He knew about all the dangerous situations she’d found herself in with Harry, and if he knew what they were dealing with right now, he wouldn’t dare say that she wouldn’t understand. 

 

“No,” He shot back and began to gather his belongings. 

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked rather harshly. 

 

Draco flinched at her tone but continued shoving his books inside his bag. “My common room.” 

 

“Why do you keep pushing me away?” She shouted as Draco made to leave. “What are you so afraid of?” 

 

Her heart was thundering in her chest and her anger was boiling inside her. Draco stood frozen between herself and the door, his back tense and his hands clenched into fists. Hermione inhaled sharply. 

 

Draco turned slowly to face her, and the look on his face stole the breath from her lungs. He looked devastated and broken and defeated. He looked as though he might crumble any second. His eyes locked on hers, boring into her, as though he was trying to make her understand without saying a word. She took a step towards him and he backed away closer to the door. 

 

“You’ve gotten hurt too many times already,” He said, his voice so quiet Hermione could barely hear him. “I can’t let it happen again if I can help it.” 

 

Hermione stood rooted to her spot. His words had shocked her; she certainly hadn’t been expecting  _ that.  _ Dumbledore’s words were ringing in her head as she watched him approach the door and place his hand on the knob. “I heard your argument with Snape the night of Slughorn’s party!” She gushed. 

 

Draco froze in his tracks, his hand still on the doorknob. She could see the muscles in his jaw clenching. She could practically hear the gears in his brain reeling, struggling for an answer. Her breathing was ragged and heavy as she stood there, waiting for him to say something. Anything. “How much did you hear?” He growled.

 

“All of it,” She breathed. “I--I had left Slughorn’s party early, and I was hiding out in the classroom when you two came in.” 

 

He still wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was fixed on the carpet and he was shaking all over. “I have to get back to the common room,” He said stiffly before opening the door, striding out and slamming it behind him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione hardly saw Draco at all the next day. He had shown up to Potions that morning but refused to look in her direction, and when the bell rang, he left quickly with Pansy and Blaise on either side of him. Hermione scowled at their backs as she, Harry and Ron walked behind them in the dungeon corridors. Harry remained silent between her and Ron, as he still grew quite frustrated during Potions class, now that he no longer had the Prince’s book. 

 

“Have either of you noticed this is the first Malfoy’s shown up to a Potions class in almost a week?” Harry murmured to the pair of them. 

 

Hermione watched as Pansy placed a hand on Draco’s arm and her eyes narrowed into slits the sight. She would hex Pansy right then if she could. She wanted to snatch Pansy’s hand off of Draco’s arm and tell her to leave him alone, but Draco had taken care of that for her when he shrugged Pansy off and shot her a scathing look. Pansy pouted and must have said something rude to Draco, as Draco sped off towards the Entrance Hall leaving the other two Slytherins behind. 

 

“No,” Hermione said faintly. “Of course not.” 

 

“Wonder what that was about?” Ron said, nodding his head in the direction of Blaise and Pansy, who were now whispering to one another as they walked. 

 

“He’s up to something,” Harry muttered. “I just know he is.” 

 

Hermione could no longer deny this point to Harry, which still irritated her -- that she had been wrong about something. She didn’t like being wrong. She usually never was, but she could get over it. Eventually. She could tell herself it was okay to be wrong sometimes, but God did she wish she wasn’t wrong about  _ this.  _ She hoped, with every fiber of being, that she wasn’t wrong about one thing. She hoped, that despite the fact that Draco was up to something, and it probably wasn’t something good, she hoped that he didn’t want to be doing this.

 

She hoped that under this exterior he portrayed was not the real him, that it was a mask he had been forced to wear. She hoped that truly, deeply, deep down, he was the smart, funny, caring boy she had grown to know over the past few months. And what scared her the most out of everything, was that she had never wanted to be right about something this much before. 

 

* * *

 

 

For the remainder of her classes on Thursday and all through Friday, Hermione didn’t see Draco for more than a few seconds, and it was always from a great distance; whether it was in the Great Hall at mealtimes, or in a large crowd in the corridor on her way to class. She had tried going to their Room on Thursday evening, but when she showed up there were two young girls standing on either side of where the door would be. Hermione had scared them off, and plopped herself down against the wall. She waited and waited for Draco to come out but as the hours slipped by, and curfew approached, Hermione had no choice but to retreat to her dormitory for the night. 

 

When Saturday morning arrived, and she headed down to the Great Hall with Harry (Lavender had insisted Ron go down with her and Parvati) for their first Apparition lesson, she did not expect to see Draco standing at the back of the room with Crabbe and Goyle. There was no way she would be able to talk to Draco during the lesson, so she chose a spot at the front of the room. Harry, however, continued walking. Hermione reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his sweater. 

 

“Where are you going?” She asked. 

 

“I’m standing near Malfoy,” He told her flatly. 

 

Before Hermione could warn him that it was probably not the best idea, Harry yanked himself away from her grip and strode to the back of the room. Hermione groaned and turned to face the front when she heard the instructor began to speak. 

 

It wasn’t long into Mister Twycross’ introduction that Hermione heard Professor McGonagall tell Draco to be quiet and pay attention. She chanced a quick glance towards the back of the Great Hall just in time to see Draco stepping away from Crabbe, his cheeks flushed red. Hermione turned back to face the front quickly as Mister Twycross began to explain what he called ‘The Three D’s’. 

 

* * *

 

After several failed attempts from everyone, and one splinching incident, everyone was dismissed. Hermione saw Draco leaving quickly, with Crabbe and Goyle at his heels. Harry and Ron were behind her in a second, with Harry watching Draco rush out of the Hall. 

 

“Harry?” She said. 

 

His gaze lingered a moment longer before his bright green eyes were looking directly at her. “Come on,” He said before practically taking off into a full blown run. 

 

Both boys were faster than she was, and it was a struggle to keep up with the pair. For a split second she hoped that Harry wasn’t intending on following Draco, but they immediately turned towards the Grand Staircase and she knew then that they were safe. 

 

Harry didn’t slow down until they came to a screeching halt in front of the Fat Lady. He blurted out the password and the Fat Lady huffed in annoyance as she swung open. Hermione followed Harry and Ron through the common room and up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Hermione was out of breath. 

 

“Harry, what are we doing?” She panted, clutching her knees to try and catch her breath. 

 

Harry shushed her and urged the two of them inside. The dormitory was empty, and very messy, she noticed. Socks and books and candy wrappers were littered everywhere. None of the beds were made and several trunks had clothes hanging out of them. Hermione wrinkled her nose before sitting down on her best friend’s bed, as Harry rummaged through his trunk. 

 

“Harry, will you please explain what you’re doing?” She demanded as he threw the rest of his contents on the floor around him. 

 

He sighed and muttered something she didn’t quite catch. Ron stood over Harry’s shoulder, trying to figure out exactly he was looking for. 

 

“Ah-ha!” Harry shouted as he stood up, the Marauder’s Map clutched in his hand. He came over to his bed, sat down next to her and opened up the parchment before tapping his wand against it, and released the concealment charm. Bewildered and confused, Hermione watched as he opened the map to reveal all of Hogwarts castle and grounds. 

 

“Harry,” she said, now thoroughly exasperated. “What is going on?” 

 

Harry huffed in annoyance, tearing his eyes from the map. “When I was standing behind Malfoy during the lesson, I heard him talking to Crabbe.” 

 

“So?” She said. 

 

“Hermione, he was talking about whatever is he’s been doing all year!” Harry said impatiently, as though she should have known this already. “He said...He said it’s taking longer than he thought it would. He told Crabbe it’s none of their business what he’s up to.” 

 

She scoffed. “So what? That constitutes you-- What are you doing exactly?” 

 

Harry looked back down at the map. “I’m going to start keeping track of him. He’s sneaking off to somewhere and if I can just figure it out…” 

 

Hermione swore her heart skipped a beat. “Harry, you can’t be serious!” Both boys turned to look at her with curious looks on their faces. She prayed her cheeks weren’t tinted pink as she scrambled for an explanation to her outburst. “I just mean--well, there are more important things you need to focus on, Harry!” She urged. “Slughorn’s memory. Your  _ homework.  _ And you have Quidditch, and we should be practicing defensive spells much more often than we do, honestly.” 

 

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, but neither argued with her. 

 

“Look, just help me find him on the map, alright?” Harry grumbled.  I haven’t got anything to rush off to!” He added when she gave him a pointed stare.

 

“Fine,” she said tersely. 

 

 _Please be somewhere you’re supposed to be_ , She thought to herself. _The library...or your common room. Please don’t be in the Room of Requirement._

 

Together, the three of them searched the map. Hermione watched a small group of students wander out to the grounds, and she saw McGonagall making her way back from the Headmaster’s office. 

 

“Look,” Ron said, his finger on the Slytherin’s common room. “There he is.” 

 

Hermione looked down at the map, and sure enough, there was the black dot with the name Draco Malfoy floating above it. He was also accompanied by his Slytherin housemates. 

 

“See, Harry?” Hermione said, feeling relieved. “Nothing wrong with a student being in their common room is there?” 

 

She knew she must have looked smug, but she couldn’t help. Harry couldn’t say anything about it. Draco was doing nothing wrong. Her best friend did not seem happy about this news, as though he were hoping to catch Draco in a place he shouldn’t be. 

 

“I’m still going to keep an eye on him,” Harry said, getting off his bed and stuffing the map into his pocket. “I can check in between classes and at meals…”

 

Hermione didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. Everything had gone silent as she listened to Harry’s words play over and over again in her head. Her heart was starting to pound, slamming against her ribcage. If Harry was going to be watching the map to keep track of Draco, she and Draco were going to have to be very careful about how often they saw each other and where. And even then it was going to be a risk. All it would take was a split second for Harry to see her and Draco’s name somewhere together on that map and everything would fall apart. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione had spent the rest of the early afternoon pondering how on Earth she was going to tell Draco they would no longer be able to see each other as freely as they currently were. And even now, there was nothing ‘free’ about their friendship. They had always been a secret. Always sneaking off to spend time with another. It had been difficult before, but now with Harry checking the map, Hermione feared it might be nearly impossible. 

 

By the time lunch had rolled around, she had thought of just sending him a letter. She thought of using one of the school owls, but she had scratched that idea when she realized owls couldn’t access the Slytherin common room from outside the castle. She jumbled around more ideas while she ate, and was thankful that Harry and Ron had Quidditch Practice that afternoon so she could at least brainstorm in peace. 

 

She had still come up empty-handed, and decided maybe she would just take a break and head to the library for a while. Maybe a bit of studying would get her brain going and then she’d be able to come up with a proper plan. 

 

The halls were practically empty as she made her way to the library, her bag stuffed with as many textbooks as she’d been able to fit. When she arrived, Madam Pince greeted her as she always did and Hermione set off for her usual table. 

 

As she passed the Dark Arts section, she caught sight of familiar blonde hair. She stopped and backed up a few paces. Draco stood leaning against one of the bookcases, his nose shoved in a book. “Draco?” She whispered. 

 

He glanced up, looking startled and snapped the book shut. “What?” 

 

Hermione glanced around to ensure they were completely alone. “Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at midnight tonight.” When he merely stared at her, she hastily added, “It’s important.”

 

He cocked his head in confusion but nodded after a moment. “Alright.” 

 

She nodded. “Good.” 

 

Draco opened up his book and began reading it again, giving her her cue to leave. And she did just that, heading for her table and once there, got to work. 

 

* * *

 

 

Asking Draco to meet her at the top of the Astronomy Tower at Midnight was risky, but at least she knew Harry would be asleep and would therefore not be checking the map for Draco’s whereabouts. When the clock on her bedside table read twenty to twelve, Hermione slipped out of bed as quietly as she could, put on her shoes and crept out of the dormitory. 

 

Before she headed down to the common room, she decided to peek into the boys’ dormitory and check to make sure Harry was definitely asleep. Carefully, she pushed the door open and peered in. The open door let in just enough lift to reveal a completely zonked out Harry, sleeping soundly. Hermione shut the door once more, let out a small sigh of relief and set off down the stairs to the common room. 

 

She climbed into the portrait hole, cast a quick concealment charm over herself and slipped past the Fat Lady. She heard the portrait mumble a faint ‘ _ who’s there? _ ’ _ ,  _ but Hermione was feet away and in the clear. 

 

It seemed luck was in her favor as she meandered the halls and climbed several sets of stairs towards the Astronomy Tower, as there wasn’t a single soul in sight. It gave her time to collect her thoughts and to stop the shaking of her legs, but that didn’t seem as simple as the first task. 

 

She didn’t know how Draco would take the news of Harry following him on the map, but she had to warn him, didn’t she? And if not to warn him, she needed to explain why they would now have more difficulty finding a time and place to spend time together. 

 

She was completely outraged with Harry’s decision.  _ Keep tracking of his whereabouts… _ She thought miserably.  _ Completely and totally unhealthy.  _ What was he playing at anyway? It was completely ridiculous! Harry had no right to be secretly following Draco around the castle. Every person deserved their privacy, didn’t they? 

 

Her anger turned to heartache as she thought back on all the afternoons and evenings she’d spent in the room with Draco. She could picture him now; sitting on the couch with his head tilted back and eyes closed, finally looking at peace. The image of the day he’d traced the scars on her hands popped into her head and her heart fluttered. The skin on her hand tingled as if it too could remember Draco’s delicate touch.  _ Why  _ did Harry have to do this? 

 

Finally, she reached the steps that led to the Astronomy Tower. Hermione checked her watch and saw that she had two minutes to spare.  _ Perfect timing.  _ She climbed the spiral stairs, pushed open the door and stepped up into the tower. For the middle of February, it was a decent night outside. The snow from the beginning of that week had melted, and there was a slight breeze that made the hairs on her skin stand up, even beneath her warmest jumper, but that was nothing compared to the bitter cold they typically endured this time of year. 

 

Hermione went over to the railing and leaned against it, looking out over the dark grounds. She could just barely make out Hagrid’s hut in the distance; a single yellow light in the window was the only sign of its existence. She looked up at the night sky and watched the stars twinkle above her. She let out a bitter laugh, remembering the time Draco had told her of the legend between Draco and Minerva. How silly it seemed to think that Professor McGonagall was their one and only obstacle. Their Transfiguration Professor had done nothing more than warn Hermione. 

 

She was in the midst of remembering the day they had taken a walk among the grounds and she had almost fallenl and Draco had reached out to grab her, when she heard the door open. Hermione turned around to see Draco climbing onto the tower. He looked exhausted; his clothes were rumpled, his hair was a mess and the circles under her eyes were the darkest she’d seen them all year. 

 

“Draco,” she greeted, walking towards him. 

 

He dodged her and walked over to the railing where she had been standing moments ago. Hermione grit her teeth and spun around to stand by him. Draco looked down at the grounds, running his fingers along the rail. Hermione laid a hand on his arm and squeezed it. 

 

“Are you alright?” She asked softly. 

 

“Just tell me why you asked me up here,” He said through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the railing. 

 

Hermione exhaled slowly, staring out at the grounds with him. “After the...incident during the Apparition lesson today, Harry said he was going to start...checking your whereabouts with this map he has.” 

 

Draco’s body stiffened and she watched as his lips transformed into a sickening snarl. “He’s what?” He hissed. 

 

“It’s… Nevermind, that’s not the point,” She said, shaking her head. She probably shouldn’t have mentioned the map part but it was too late now. “The point is, it’s going to be more difficult for us to...” She paused, unsure of how to phrase what she wanted to say. “To hang out. If Harry sees us together on the map--”

 

“Embarrassed to be friends with me, Granger?” He snapped, glaring at her with a harshness in his eyes she hadn’t seen in years. 

 

“Of course not!” She shot back, the fire inside her growing. If anything, she desperately wished they could walk down the corridors side by side without any saying a word about it. “Just-- We both already have our plates full this year, don’t we? Do you honestly feel like dealing with the havoc your housemates will wreck if they find out we’re friends? And Harry? Ron? And I don’t know how those two would, but if they found out that I helped steal Harry’s book...? I know you have enough to deal with, Draco,” She said firmly. “And so do I.”

 

Draco didn’t say anything after she finished. She watched him clench his jaw repeatedly. He was shaking again, but that could have been due to the fact that he had clearly not bothered to bring his jacket. 

 

“It’s already a risk, the two of us spending time together. With Harry checking his map...I really don’t know how much we’ll be able to see each other,” Saying it out loud physically pained her. Having to watch his rock hard features crumble for a split second, was pure agony. She  _ hated  _ everything about this. 

 

“Maybe it’s better this way,” He said abruptly, pushing off the railing and backing towards the door. 

 

“What?” She spat incredulously, whipping around to face him. “That’s what you’ve got to say?”  

 

Draco shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. Hermione could already feel the tears welling in her eyes and trickling down her cheeks. She couldn’t let him slip away now. “You’re not going to get rid of me easily, if that’s what you’re thinking,” She said with a harsh laugh, placing her hands on her hips. 

 

“It’s  _ better  _ that way!” He yelled, throwing his hands up and grabbing fistfuls of his hair. 

 

“For who?!” She argued. “You or me?” 

 

There was a pause and for a split, agonizing moment, Hermione thought he was going to say  _ me.  _ That he was going to tell her she was no good for him. That he’d seen the error of his ways by being friends with her. But then--

 

“Both,” he whispered. 

 

He continued backing away but Hermione wasn’t letting him go, not yet. She snatched the cuff of his shirt and wrapped her hand around his wrist. “I know you care about me, Draco,” She said bluntly, her voice crisp and loud against the silence of the night. “And I--” She could feel the heat beginning to spread to her cheeks. “I care about you too.” 

 

Draco yanked his arm out of her grip, but he stood rooted to the spot. He looked absolutely terrified in this moment, his eyes darting between her and the ground. 

 

“Don’t push me away, Draco,” She pleaded, her voice quieter now. Gentler. Though her entire body was shaking, she reached out and clasped her hand around his, running her thumb along the scar on the back of his hand. “Please.” 

 

There was silence. 

 

“I don’t know how often we’ll be able to see each other but that doesn’t mean--” She inhaled sharply and tried to steady her shaking voice. “That doesn’t mean we can’t try our best.”

 

The only thing Hermione could hear was the pounding of her heart against her ribcage. She waited with bated breath, her arm fell limp at her side as he let go of her hand. Draco swallowed hard. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” He said hoarsely. 

 

Hermione chuckled softly. She wiped away the last lingering tear and pushed her hair out of her face. “I’m used to it by now.” 

 

“I’m not asking you to keep this up, Granger,” He warned, pointing a finger at her. 

 

“I know,” She said faintly. 

 

Draco nodded. “See you in Ancient Runes Monday morning?” 

 

She sputtered for a moment, seemingly unable to form words at the moment. For once, things had gone better than she thought. “Yes,” she said finally. 

 

Draco nodded once more, before bidding her goodnight and retreating through the door and back down the spiral stairs. Hermione waited several minutes before leaving and heading back down to Gryffindor tower. Even if she tried, she couldn’t wipe the smile that had spread across her lips. Nothing could. Not in this moment. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	19. Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by the talented oeuvre24! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for your love, kudos and comments <3 This fic would be nothing without the support you all give us. Enjoy and let us know what you think! 
> 
> Don't forget ouevre24 is posting this on ff.net too!

The day following her meeting with Draco in the Astronomy Tower, Hermione spent the last day of her weekend completing as much of her homework as possible, and started to make study plans for each of her subjects. The only time she left her table in the library that day, was to eat a sandwich at lunchtime, and then later that night when Madam Pince approached her saying that she couldn’t keep the library open any longer for her and that she should be heading to her common room for the night.

 

Her day had been so full of work and study that she barely had a second to think about anything else. She hadn’t seen Harry or Ron that day, nor had she seen Draco, but a small part of her was glad for the lack of distraction on all their parts. Being this ahead of her homework and already coming up with plans to keep her exam preparation as stress-free as possible, would leave her with plenty of free time as the school days wore on. She had barely lain her head on her pillow that night before she had fallen asleep easily, giving her mind the much needed rest that it so badly deserved.

 

Monday morning dawned dark and gloomy, with rain battering against the windows. It was typical February Scottish weather, and made Hermione grateful of the fact that she didn’t have Herbology that day, as a walk to the greenhouses wouldn’t be pleasant in the slightest. After a slight lie-in before getting ready for the day, she arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast with ten minutes until her first class. As she walked towards the Gryffindor table, she spotted Harry sitting by himself, and when he caught sight of her, he nodded his head to the empty spot beside him. She smiled and made her way to him and sat down. “Good morning, Harry,” she said and picked up a few pieces of toast.

 

“Morning,” he greeted with a smile. “Did you see the noticeboard this morning?” He asked. She shook her head, she hadn’t even bothered to check as she left the common room, too determined to get to breakfast. “There’s a Hogsmeade visit this weekend.”

 

Hermione’s eyebrows raised and she quickly chewed the piece of toast in her mouth so she could speak properly. When her mouth wasn’t full, she said, “That’s wonderful! We can practice some more wards and maybe a few spells,” she beamed.

 

“I’ll tell Ron when I see him,” Harry said, in agreement of the decision.

 

“Where is he?” Hermione asked curiously.

 

“Still in bed,” he said. “We have a free period.”

 

“I’m glad one of you is making the most of it,” she sniffed and then continued to eat the rest of her toast. They continued some small talk before Hermione noticed the time. “Sorry Harry, I need to go to class. I’ll find you later,” she spoke as she stood from the table and slung her bag over her shoulder. She picked up her remaining slice of toast in a napkin and rushed out of the Great Hall, determined to beat the rush of students who would leave for class when the bell rung.

 

Her plan prevailed as the corridors were mostly empty as she made her way to Ancient Runes. When she reached the classroom, she smiled, glad to see that Draco had kept his word and came to class instead of skipping. “You came,” she said as she approached him.

 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Draco snorted with a small smirk. “Morning to you too.”

 

“I didn’t see you at breakfast,” Hermione said. “Or did I just miss you?”

 

Draco shook his head. “I didn’t go. I had a bit of a sleep-in.”

 

She could tell. He didn’t look as weary as he had been for the previous week. It was clear that he had managed to get more than a few hours sleep. “A good sleep pattern suits you, you should keep it up,” she humoured and watched him roll his eyes. “Here,” she lifted her hand, offering him the piece of buttered toast wrapped in a napkin that she had intended to eat on the way to class. She watched him eye the toast and open his mouth, but she cut him off. “Just eat it, I already had some in the Hall,” she said.

 

He reached forward and took it from her, unwrapping the napkin before taking a bite. “Thanks,” he said when his mouth was empty.

 

She smiled but didn’t say anything in return, and leaned back against the stone wall while he ate the toast. The bell rang a few minutes later, and Professor Babbling opened the classroom door just as Draco had finished the slice of toast and wiped his mouth with the napkin. The Professor greeted them both as they entered the room and headed to their normal seats, and not longer after, their fellow classmates filed in, taking their own seats so class could begin.

 

As it was a single period, Professor Babbling wrote some questions on the board using ruins for them to translate using their textbooks, and then answer. Every student set to work, and Hermione sped through her translations and answers, not wanting to be left with any unnecessary homework of having to finish it out of class. Just as she was finishing off her last answer, well into the class time, she felt something against the side of her hand. She glanced down and saw Draco’s finger tapping her hand and then tapping a small bit of ripped parchment between them.

 

_ Thanks for breakfast. I was more hungry than I would care to admit. _

 

She smiled seeing his neat handwriting at the top of the parchment, and she glanced up to make sure the Professor wasn’t looking before she moved her own quill to the page.

 

_ Don’t think you’re too special _ , she wrote.  _ I was planning on eating it myself. _

 

Beside her, Draco bent his head, pretending to look at his textbook but she heard his quiet breath of a laugh. His quill returned to the parchment.

 

_ And here I was thinking you carried around breakfast foods for any poor sod who needed it. _

 

Hermione shook her head with a smile.

 

_ No. Just poor sods called Draco Malfoy, it seems. _

 

His answering laugh, obviously intended to be quiet, alerted Professor Babbling at the front of the class, and got them both told off for not working.

 

It was worth it, though, Hermione thought. So very worth it.

 

* * *

 

 

In double Arithmancy that day after morning break, Hermione sat with Draco again. She had rushed to class after being caught up with Harry and Ron at break, talking about what they would be doing when they attended Hogsmeade that weekend. She had almost been late to class, and Draco raised an eyebrow as she sat down next to him, trying to calm down her fast breathing from having power-walked to class.

 

Even if they had wanted to talk, they couldn’t have. Professor Vector lined up some challenging classwork and there was an unspoken agreement between Hermione and Draco that they needed to concentrate solely on their work. As time wore on, they completed their work, and along with the rest of the class, answered aloud some of Professor Vector’s questions. With five minutes left of class-time, the Professor allowed them to talk and have a well earned break.

 

“And just to think, it’s only going to get harder by the time we sit our N.E.W.Ts,” Hermione sighed as she packed up her things.

 

“Joy,” Draco drawled, putting away his own things.

 

“Do you want to come to the library with me after lunch? I have a free period, I was going to try and finish some more homework,” she asked him.

 

When he shook his head, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “I have Astronomy, I need to go,” he explained.

  
“Oh, yes, that’s a good idea,” Hermione nodded, glad that he actually  _ couldn’t _ come with her rather than not wanting to. “What about after Potions today?” She stood up and pulled her bag on when the bell rang.

 

“We can’t,” he responded with a frown, slinging his own bag strap over his shoulder. “Potter’s map, remember? He’s going to be trying to find me on it.”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Hermione said smugly.

 

Draco stared at her incredulously. “No I’m not, he--”

 

“ _ He _ has Quidditch practice,” she said. “He told me before class. We’ll be good for around two hours until practice is over.”

 

Draco’s frown lifted, and he smirked at her. “Sounds like a plan, Granger.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione stepped foot in the library and quickly walked to the back of the large room, passed all the stacks and tables, some with students working at them, some without. She hoped that Draco would already be at their table so that their time together wouldn’t be wasted. They only had a certain amount of time before the Gryffindor Quidditch team finished their practice, at which point, Hermione knew he would take out his Map to check Draco’s whereabouts. Thankfully, as she rounded the shelves at the back, she saw Draco sitting at their table, bent close to his books as he wrote quickly. “Hi,” she breathed, slightly out of breath when she sat down across from him.

 

Draco looked up at her and she briefly saw the twitch of his lips upwards before he looked back down at his parchment; she noticed that he had written a fair amount of his essay and couldn’t help but feel envious of how small and neat his handwriting was. “Hello,” he greeted as he wrote. “You’re sure Potter won’t see us on his Map?” He asked.

 

“Positive,” Hermione nodded and sat her bag on her lap to start taking out her things. “He’s at Quidditch practice, so unless he can fly, coach, and find your name amidst hundreds of others, I think we’re safe.”

 

Draco let out a quiet laugh and when she looked up after all of her things were on the table, she saw that he was looking at her. “So what is this Map that he has?” He asked and then went back to writing. 

 

“It’s something that his father and his father’s friends made when they attended Hogwarts,” Hermione explained as she flipped through her Transfiguration textbook. “It shows an entire map of Hogwarts and every person within the grounds, wherever they are at all times.”

 

“Everywhere?”

 

“I'm not sure, actually,” Hermione furrowed her brows. “Most likely just the places Harry’s father’s friend group visited and knew about.” 

 

“Hm,” she heard him hum, and then heard the scratching of his quill against parchment. 

 

“What homework are you doing?” She asked as she took out a fresh sheet of her own parchment. 

 

“Astronomy. I'm almost done. It's been a couple of weeks worth of star-viewing all compiled into one essay,” he answered smoothly, continuing to write.

 

She liked that. Having someone to talk to whilst she did her homework, while they also continued to work, not feeling the need to stop just to contribute to conversation. They worked in silence for the next half an hour until Draco sat up straight in his chair and the movement made Hermione lift her eyes from her work. “Done?” She asked and he nodded.

 

She watched as he leaned back in his chair, and stiffened her legs slightly when she felt his foot touch the side of hers under the table. She didn't move away, but he seemed to have noticed the touch, and she didn't feel his shoe again. She tried to focus on her work, but the theory of Transfiguration that she was supposed to be writing about wasn't sitting long enough in her brain for her to concentrate fully. So she sat up straight too, to give her brain a well deserved rest. Her eyes went straight to Draco, watching as he had his head turned to look out the large window on the other side of the library. Somewhere out there, Harry, Ron and the rest of the Quidditch team would be going through their practice, which made her think…

 

“You haven't played Quidditch this year, have you?” She asked.

 

Draco snorted and one corner of his lips twitched up as he looked at her. “You already know the answer to that, Granger. Who are you trying to kid?”

 

She smiled and laughed quietly, feeling her cheeks warm from being caught out so easily. “I tried to say it in the most polite way possible.”

 

He rolled his eyes and smiled properly. “No, is the answer to your question,” he said. “I haven’t played this year.”

 

“Because...?” She prompted.

 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re too nosy for your own good?”

 

“Once or twice.”

 

He laughed softly and her stomach swooped. This was the person that she had been worried about having disappeared completely. The Draco that smiled easily and laughed, and could pull a joke when he wanted to. “I didn’t want to focus the majority of my energy on Quidditch,” he said, answering the question properly this time. “I still enjoy it. There just...isn’t enough time in the day, shall we say?”

 

“More like you’re focusing on more important things. Schoolwork, especially at this point in our schooling careers, is paramount over everything,” Hermione said. “The game just causes unnecessary distraction for every party involved, I really can’t see the point of it.”

 

He picked up his quill and twirled it between his fingers. After Hermione saw the movement, she had to force herself to look back up to his face when he questioned her. “You don’t like flying?”

 

Hermione let out a breath and screwed her nose up slightly. “I…” She paused, thinking of the way to best describe her feelings towards it all. “I like the concept of flying.”

 

“Is it the height that scares you?” He asked, still twirling his quill between his fingers.

 

“No… Well, yes. I’m not afraid of heights normally, but if you put me twenty feet in the air on a thin piece of wood, then yes, I’m afraid of heights.”

 

“Reasonable fear. Why do you like the  _ concept _ of flying?” He asked.

 

“Oh… It’s a… It’s just from thoughts I had before I knew that the Wizarding World existed; before I knew I was a witch,” she said, albeit with a slight air of awkwardness.

 

“I won’t combust if you talk about your home life,” Draco said. It was a bit of a shock to hear such a statement from him; a statement that she wouldn’t have thought possible to come from his mouth more than six months ago. “What were the thoughts you had?” He asked.

 

“Witches and wizards exist to Muggles, but in the form of fairytales,” Hermione said. “When I was little, I had a picture book that had a witch in it, who flew everywhere on her broomstick and got where she needed to be easily. I always wished I could do that too, but my six year old self was clueless to the whole ‘fear of heights’ business.”

 

“Muggles really believe that we exist?” He asked with furrowed brows.

 

“To an extent,” Hermione nodded. “Nothing to the magnitude of what the Wizarding World actually is, or the range of magic. To Muggles, witches and wizards are just common characters to include in children’s storybooks.”

 

“I never knew that before,” Draco murmured, and his eyes were on the quill that wasn’t moving in his hand any longer.

 

Hermione gave a small shrug. “I’ve never heard any other muggleborn mention it, so it’s probably not common knowledge anyway.”

 

Draco nodded and in the silence, Hermione looked back down at her parchment and managed to write another two paragraphs of her essay when the inspiration came to her unexpectedly. His voice broke the silence between them and made her look up once more. “What makes you not like Quidditch?”

 

Hermione smiled and shook her head. “Why is it always such a shock that I don’t like the sport?” She asked. “It’s the exact same with my dad, he’s always wanted me to sit with him and watch a football game, but I just can’t get into it. I don’t--”

 

“What’s football?” His question interrupted her.

 

She tried to hide her elation over the fact that he was willingly questioning her about things to do with Muggles. “I can explain as much as I know, which isn’t a lot. And I do have to warn you, if you end up liking the sport, we can’t be friends,” she teased with a smile.

 

Hermione watched as the corner of his lip tugged into a smirk. “Well go on, and I’ll make sure to hate it with a passion.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione hadn’t gotten as much homework done as she had planned to by the time she left the library. She and Draco had both worked on their homework, but chatted the whole time, sometimes taking a break from working to focus solely on talking to each other. No one had ventured to the back of the library near their table, and it had been as if they were in their own small world. It reminded her of the time they had spent together during the Christmas holidays, when everything had seemed so much easier than it was now. They didn’t have to hide back then, for one thing.

 

She could have continued talking to Draco for much longer than she did, but when she glanced at her watch out of habit, she realised that the Quidditch practice would have finished just over forty minutes before. Her gasp made Draco ask what was wrong, and when she told him, the colour on his face seemed to drain.

 

“He’s going to find out,” Draco said as Hermione stood up and began stuffing things into her bag.

 

“No,” Hermione said strongly, but wasn’t convincing herself.  _ Or _ Draco.

  
“He’s going to see us on that bloody map together!” Draco snapped. “How are we going to explain that?”

 

“Maybe… Maybe it didn’t show us at  _ this _ table,” Hermione held out hope, her words tumbling from her mouth quickly. “Maybe it just shows that we are in the library at the same time. That doesn’t mean we were sitting together, right?” She pulled her bag strap on her shoulder and stared at Draco who wasn’t looking at her. “He won’t find out,” she told him.

 

Draco nodded once, and Hermione walked away from the table, and once she was free of the library, her steps quickened as she tried to get to the common room as quickly as she could. By the time she arrived, her face was hot and she was panting. Taking the staircases at a run while carrying her book bag, wasn’t something she was designed for.

 

“Where were you?” Harry asked, his brows furrowed as he approached Hermione the moment she stepped into the common room. “You said you’d meet me after practice so we could talk about Hogsmeade more.”

 

Hermione was rather taken aback and her heart quickened. Maybe her theory about the map wasn’t right and Harry had in fact seen her and Draco at the same time. She watched Harry continue to stare at her and she knew she had to answer. “I was in the library,” she said surely. There was no point of lying if he already knew.

 

“Yes, and what were you doing in the library?” His eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

 

Hermione glared at him. “I was studying. What else do you think I’d be doing?”

 

“Malfoy was in the library too!” Harry snapped.

 

Hermione tried not to show her reaction too obviously. So the map  _ had _ shown Draco in the library, but Harry hadn’t said anything about them both sitting at the same table. She was sure that if he had seen it, it would be the first thing he’d confront her about. “And?” She questioned him, trying to calm her heart that was thumping in her chest. “I’m not allowed to study because he’s in the same room as me?”

 

Harry’s mouth snapped shut. “I-- Well, you…” He stumbled over his words.

 

Her glare didn’t cease. “Don’t attack me, Harry. And don’t speak to me like that again. I’m not going to have you be at my throat for things like that. If I can’t be in the same room as him, then what do you want me to do? Skip most of my classes too?” She watched as he stared at her, not making a move to reply. “Go to dinner, Harry. I’ll be down in a bit,” she said stiffly after a moment's pause, and she walked by him to head to the staircase to take her to her dormitory.

 

* * *

 

 

It was when Hermione was eating breakfast on Wednesday that she saw Draco enter the Great Hall, flanked by Zabini and Nott. Her eyes narrowed when shortly after, Parkinson strolled in with a noticeable air of confidence, alongside Daphne Greengrass who Hermione had never really had anything to do with. She kept her eyes on the Slytherin table, scanning the faces to find where Draco was seated since she had lost him after watching Parkinson enter the Hall. A few seconds later, she found him and watched him put some breakfast food on the plate in front of him, and saw Zabini and Nott talking animatedly to each other beside him.

 

“Hermione, you're spilling orange juice all over yourself,” Ginny spoke and Hermione jolted her head down to see that during her distraction, she had tipped her goblet too far to the side and the contents were slowly spilling out onto her sleeve. 

 

“I didn't even realise,” Hermione shook her head and took the napkin Ginny offered her. She mopped up most of the drink before using her wand to clean her robe sleeve and the table. 

 

“Are you okay?” The younger witch asked. “I haven't really seen you around.”

 

Hermione put a smile on her face before answering. “I'm fine, Gin,” she assured her friend. “My homework this year is mounting up quite quickly. You should prepare for your own sixth year.”

 

“Merlin, no,” Ginny laughed. “I'm fine just thinking of the homework I get now.”

 

Hermione smiled and gave a small laugh. The noise of owls filled the Hall as the morning post arrived. She wasn't expecting any mail, so didn't bother looking up, and instead looked at the Slytherin table again while Ginny was distracted with seeing what her boyfriend had received by owl. Hermione watched as Draco’s elegant eagle owl landed in front of him, and she saw the colour drain from his face. Her stomach sank. She’d noticed a pattern that occurred every time Draco received mail. After every letter he received, he secluded himself for days on end.

 

The pattern did not break and Hermione felt the urge to rise from her seat when she saw Draco read the letter quickly and then screw it in his fist, then stand from his bench. He left, ignoring Zabini who called after him, and walked quickly from the Hall.

 

“Hermione, look what Dean got from his mother,” Ginny said as she tapped Hermione’s arm again. 

 

“Sorry, I have to go. I have to go meet McGonagall,” Hermione lied as she stood up without looking at anyone or anything but the large doors of the Great Hall. 

 

“She's right th--” Ginny tried to stop her but Hermione had already picked up her bag and was walking quickly from the Hall. 

 

_ I have to get to him before he disappears _ , she thought, quickening her pace with every step. When she arrived into the Entrance Hall, she looked around. There was no one to be seen, and the loud chattering from the Great Hall just seemed like a dull buzzing in her mind.

 

She'd missed him. There was no telling where he'd gone to, or when he would come back. She didn’t know when she would next see him again, but she hoped with all her being that things would be the same between them. They had been going so well all week; he had finally started eating properly once more, seemed to be sleeping, and smiled and laughed a lot more than normal. He couldn’t lose that…

 

The bell rang loudly, making Hermione jump. It pulled her from her thoughts and forced her to walk, not wanting to be caught up in the rush of students going to class.

 

_ Where did you go, Draco?  _ She thought as she walked to her first class. She had to find him.

 

* * *

 

 

“I just want  _ one _ chocolate frog, it will take two minutes!” Ron complained as Hermione grabbed his and Harry’s coat sleeves and pulled as they walked passed Honeydukes. She was walking in between the two boys, all of them wrapped up in their warmest winter gear as the weather was trying its hardest to force people back indoors.

 

“No, have you seen the amount of people in there?” Hermione said strictly. “We don’t have a lot of time until we have to head back, and we need to make the most of every minute we have!”

 

She let go of their coat sleeves and kept walking once they had passed Honeydukes. Their destination was at the end of the village, over a rickety wooden fence, and up into the secluded cave which had once housed Sirius and Buckbeak. She didn’t feel bad about forcing Harry and Ron to keep walking, avoiding the inviting warmth of the Three Broomsticks, and the hustle and bustle of the villages’ sweet shop and joke shop, even though she could really have done with a tall glass of butterbeer and a chocolate frog for afterwards. Their time in the village would be cut short due to their Apparition lesson that was scheduled for later on in the day, and despite the fact that learning wards and defensive spells was important, there was no way that they could miss the lesson back at Hogwarts.

 

By the time they reached the fenceline at the end of the village, Hermione’s nose and cheeks stung from the biting wind, and looking back, she saw from the pink tints on Harry and Ron’s faces, that they had suffered the same. After a quick double-check that they weren’t being followed, the Trio climbed over the fence; Ron first, as the length of his legs made it an easy feat, Harry next, who took it in his stride, and then Hermione, who got help from both boys who held her arms and prevented a fall that would have happened had she tried to climb the fence herself. “Right,” she breathed out and pushed some stray curls under her beanie, “Let’s get going.”

 

The climb up to the cave was difficult, and if they hadn’t been wearing long sleeves and trousers, their limbs surely would have been cut up by the stray branches and thorns on the path. When they finally got to the cave, Hermione let out a sigh of relief and unwound her scarf from her neck, feeling a little warm from the climb. The boys followed, ditching their coats and gloves, and Hermione used her wand to conjure a small blue flame to light the cave and keep them from completely freezing. She took her bag off her shoulders and pulled out the book that they would be learning from that day, and flipped to the page she had already bookmarked.

 

“Let’s take it in turns,” she suggested, and stood up with the book in her hands. “Each of us can go to the back of the cave and cast a ward on that small space, and the other two can try and fire spells at it to see if it worked. Good idea?”

 

“Only idea, more like it,” Ron muttered under his breath and Harry chuckled as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

 

Hermione stared at them and pursed her lips. “You’ve got to take this seriously!” She said. “What if we need to put up wards to protect ourselves?” She asked. “What if something happens and we have no choice but to hide? We’ll need wards up to make sure people don’t find us!”

 

“We know, Hermione,” Harry consoled calmly. “I’ll go first, I guess.” He took his wand from his back pocket and walked towards the dim back of the cave. “What am I saying again?” He asked when he turned to them with his wand up.

 

Hermione sighed. “You should have been reading these books over and over, I--”

 

“Hermione,” Ron’s voice broke her rant and she looked at him. “We’ll read them from now on. Promise. Just tell the guy the spells so we can get back to the castle.”

 

She stared at Ron then dropped her eyes back to the book. He was right, she couldn’t be wasting time trying to find arguments and reasons to scold the both of them. “Raise your wand, with your hand the same height as your shoulder,” she instructed to Harry, reading from the text, “And focus on protecting yourself from all, and speak the words, Protego Totalum, pointing to the areas you need to protect.”

 

When she looked up from the book, she saw Harry with his wand in position, and he waited a few seconds before speaking the spell. “Protego Totalum,” he spoke slowly and held his wand in front of him before moving slightly to the left. It seemed almost ritualistic, the way that Harry moved around the space, chanting the same spell over and over. Hermione didn’t know how to tell if the spell had worked or not, but the moment was about to arrive, as Harry stopped and lowered his wand. “I think I’ve done it all,” he said to them.

 

“What do we do?” Ron asked Hermione.

 

“We need to test if it works,” she shrugged and raised her wand. “Petrificus Totalus!” She brandished her wand towards Harry and shot the spell. She watched the light of the spell go towards Harry, who raised his own wand instinctively, but just before the spell hit him, it seemed to falter and dim, before hitting Harry in the shoulder.

 

Harry stumbled backwards, his back hitting the cave wall, and his head dropped. “You alright, mate?” Ron called to him.

 

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed at the same time, concerned for her friend.

 

Harry lifted his head and looked at them, his eyes slightly glassy. “Yeah,” he mumbled and nodded.

 

Ron and Hermione walked towards him, and she checked him over. “The ward kind of worked,” she offered. “It’s like the spell tried to get you, but couldn’t quite take over your whole body.”

 

“It’s taken over my arm,” Harry said, looking down at his left arm which hung limp by his side, his fingers twisted oddly. It was the same side that Hermione’s spell had hit.

 

Hermione’s eyebrows raised as she saw the effects, and quickly used Finite to give Harry the strength back in his arm. “How odd…” She mused. “The ward works, but it isn’t strong enough to hold off complete spells. Maybe I’ll have a go this time,” she said and stood in the area that Harry hadn’t warded. “We’ve got to get this right eventually… We have to.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You do the first, second and third floors, and I’ll do the fifth, sixth and seventh,” Hermione said to Anthony Goldstein. “We’ll meet up to patrol the dungeons together.”

 

“See you soon,” Anthony nodded and they parted ways as Anthony began his patrol on the first floor whilst Hermione climbed the staircases to get to the third.

 

It was late Sunday evening, and after dinner Hermione had been excited to head back to the common room and do a bit of reading. Her plans had been disrupted however, when Anthony had approached her and asked if she could fill in for Padma Patil’s prefect duty that night due to Padma being in the infirmary from a stomach bug. Hermione couldn’t say no, and her ideal night of reading by the fire had been cancelled. Luckily she had finished all of her homework during the day, so nothing would be waiting for her when she returned to the Gryffindor Tower for bed.

 

She tried not to drag her feet too much as she climbed the stairs to the fourth floor after making her way around the third with nobody in sight. As she walked, her mind drifted and wandered, putting her in a relaxed state which she didn’t feel often. Especially these days, with the mounting pressure of schoolwork, her desire to learn and read on defensive spells and wards, teaching Ron and Harry, and finally, her concern over Draco. She hadn’t seen him since the morning in the Great Hall earlier that week, just like she had predicted. He didn’t show to any of his classes, or attend any meals, and she just hoped that with whatever he was doing, or wherever he was going, that he was eating enough, sleeping enough and staying safe. There was no pretending how worried she was for him.

 

As the night wore on, the moon was shrouded by clouds, and Hermione had to light a Lumos to see as she walked through the corridors. When she arrived on the seventh floor, she walked passed the Fat Lady with a bitter look, as she longed for the warmth of her bed and a good night’s rest. She hadn’t seen a single student out of bed, and felt like the patrol had been for no reason at all.

 

The minutes ticked by, and when she neared a corner, she heard the sound of footsteps. She raised her wand higher, concentrating harder to spread light from her wand which had dimmed in her boredom, and watched the corner. She knew it might be a teacher, so didn’t call out, and only waited. Who it was that turned the corner, made her heart stutter. “Draco,” she breathed, as he walked into her wand’s light.

 

He had been staring at the floor, and when he looked up at her, she didn’t know what to think. His cheekbones were dashed red and his eyes looked bloodshot and slightly puffy. She’d seen herself in the mirror enough times to know that those were the telltale signs of having been crying. “Go away,” he spoke, but his voice was weak, and shuddered at the end.

 

She shook her head, still lost for words, and stepped forwards. “What happened?” She whispered.

 

He avoided her eyes, but didn’t make a move. “Nothing.  _ Go _ away.”

 

“I’m not going, Draco,” she spoke and stood in front of him. “Have you been hurt?”

 

He scoffed and looked over her shoulder at the dark corridor. “I wish.”

 

Hermione’s jaw clenched and she reached her hand up and put it on his cheek, making him look at her. “ _ Don’t _ say that,” she whispered harshly. “Tell me what happened.”

 

There was silence between them, and he stared back at her, and because she was closer, she could see the glassiness of his eyes. He had definitely been crying. “It doesn’t matter,” was his answer, quiet, and empty.

 

Hermione shook her head. “It does matter, Draco,” she said, and without thinking otherwise, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his middle. She knew for a fact that being hugged when she was upset made all the difference. He stood still, tense in her hold, and his arm hung limply by his sides. She felt him slowly move his head, feeling his jaw brush against her hair as he dipped his head. “You can tell me,” she said into his chest. “I can help.”

 

Those words seemed to be a catalyst, and Draco stepped backwards quickly and stared at her. “You can do _ nothing _ ,” he snapped and walked passed her without a second glance.

 

Hermione spun around and watched as his retreating figure raised an arm, seeming to wipe his sleeve across his face. His words didn’t deter her. She could help him.

 

She  _ would _ help him.


	20. Amortentia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me. 
> 
> Don't forget oeuvre24 is uploading this to ff.net. And once again, I have to thank her for being a truly wonderful beta. This chapter wouldn't be what it is without her. 
> 
> As always, enjoy, and let us know what you think! You can find oeuvre24 on tumblr @ hexrmionegranger and myself @avdubs

When Hermione returned to the common room after her rounds that evening, her legs were still shaking and her thoughts had turned into a hurricane. There was a dull pounding spreading from the her temples to the base of her neck and all she needed to do was think. She needed to sit down and think about the run-in she had with Draco. She barely registered the roaring fire or the tuft of black hair poking up from the back of an armchair as she walked further into the common room. 

 

It was only when she sat down on the couch across from Harry that she realized his presence. “Harry!” She gasped, jumping back in her seat. 

 

Harry’s head snapped up, a puzzled expression on his face. “Hermione,” he mumbled. “How were rounds?” 

 

“Fine,” she answered calmly, even though her heart was racing. Why would Harry ask about her rounds if he hadn’t seen her and Draco on the map? He’s never asked about how her rounds went; usually he was asleep by the time she returned. 

 

“Did you happen to…” He paused and seemed to debate whether he wanted to finish his question. He let out a sigh and shook his head. “Did you happen to see anyone during your rounds?” 

 

Her eyes widened. So he had been watching the map tonight! Had he seen her and Draco in the corridor? If he did, wouldn’t he have said something about it by now? 

 

“Why?” she asked, instead of answering his question. 

 

She shifted in her seat and studied her best friend’s appearance. His hair was a mess, like he’d combed through it a hundred times with his fingers. His tie was hanging loose around his neck and it looked as though he could barely keep his eyes open. 

 

“I saw Malfoy on the Map, on the seventh floor. In a bathroom….” he said, trying to make sense of what he had seen as he spoke. “For a while. An hour or so.” 

 

Hermione hummed and tapped her chin, trying to act as though she were deep in thought. Though she wouldn’t admit it to Harry, this information intrigued her. Why had Draco picked a bathroom on the seventh floor to cry in? 

 

“That’s not the strange part, though,” Harry continued, now looking at her. “Before he went to the bathroom, I couldn’t find him on the Map anywhere. And then suddenly...he just appeared again.” 

 

Slowly, the pieces fell together in her head. Draco must have been in the Room of Requirement, which the Map obviously didn’t know about. Even though she should have been wondering what Draco had been doing in the Room of Requirement that had made him cry, she couldn’t control the joy and excitement that filled her from head to toe, knowing it was untraceable on Harry’s Map. 

 

Hermione sighed and stood up, hiking her bag up on her shoulder. “I did see Draco towards the end of my rounds,” she told him. 

 

Harry’s mouth fell open slightly, but before he could ask her anything else, Hermione continued, twisting the truth. “He didn’t look like he was up to anything suspicious, Harry. I sent him off to bed after docking points.” 

 

He didn’t look too pleased at this information. His lips were pressed together tightly as he nodded. “Alright.” 

 

“Harry,” she said as she slowly made her way towards the stairs that led to her dormitory. “Remember what’s important right now.” 

 

“Right,” she heard him mutter as she ascended the stairs, where her bed awaited. 

 

* * *

 

 

Despite knowing she had classes the next morning, Hermione couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. The other girls had all been asleep when she arrived in the dormitory, and she had spent what felt like hours sitting against her headboard mulling over the events of that night. Draco had been in the Room of Requirement, she was certain. It was no coincidence that he had abruptly appeared in the seventh floor after not being anywhere else on the map. Why he had been crying in the bathroom, she had no idea, but at least it meant one thing. The only thing that mattered to her at the moment. 

 

They could return to their Room and Harry would never know they were spending time together. 

 

By the time dawn arrived, Hermione had only managed two or three hours of sleep, but she was too eager to get to Ancient Runes and tell Draco of the good news. When she arrived at the Great Hall, she was disappointed when she didn’t see him at the Slytherin table, but there was still plenty of time. She sat with Harry while Ron sat a few feet down from them with Lavender smothering his face with her pink-glossed lips. 

 

“You know,” Hermione said, watching as Ron attempted to reach for the bacon despite Lavender’s firm grasp on him. “I really couldn’t care less that they’re dating, but Ron does not look happy with her.” 

 

Harry groaned. “He complains about her sometimes. I think he’s too afraid to break up with her.” 

 

Hermione snorted and helped herself to coffee and sausages. 

 

“While we’re on the subject,” Harry said after swallowing a bite of his eggs. “Cormac’s apparently still interested in you.” 

 

She scrunched her features in disgust. Cormac was a pompous arse. Besides, her interest was somewhere else… “As I’ve said before, he’s awful,” she said with a shake of her head. 

 

Harry mumbled in agreement and returned to his breakfast while scanning through this morning’s edition of The Daily Prophet. Hermione took her chance and glanced over at the Slytherin table. There was still no sign of Draco and her heart sank in disappointment as she turned around. _He could still be coming_ , she told herself, and even if he didn’t, perhaps he was sleeping in today like he’d done the week before. Maybe she would arrive to Ancient Runes and Draco would be standing outside waiting for the bell. 

 

Just like she’d done last week, she brought with her an extra piece of toast in the hopes that Draco would show up for class. She hustled the best she could through the hoard of students dispersing through the Entrance Hall and quickly made her way to Ancient Runes, but when she arrived, there was no slender boy with blonde hair waiting outside the classroom. 

 

Hermione sat at their table and set the piece of toast in the middle. Professor Babbling began her lecture, to which they were supposed to take notes. Despite Hermione’s best efforts, she couldn’t help but glance in the direction of the door every few seconds. Her teeth found her bottom lip as her mind drifted from the lesson. She’d never seen Draco look so upset before as he had the night before. Her heart ached for him. His eyes had been so red and puffy and he had been so cold to her before he walked away. She knew him by now, knew him well enough to know he had just gotten defensive. He couldn’t actually be mad at her, she tried to convince herself.

 

She ate her spare piece of toast on her way to Defense Against the Dark Arts and only half-listened to Professor Snape as he too went on the lecture route that day. She’d gone to the library during break, hoping that he would turn up but it was to no avail. Deeply worried at this point, she walked into Arithmancy with her mind on anything but the double lesson she was about to endure. 

 

When she entered the classroom however, her eyes immediately spotted his blonde hair at the back of the classroom. A smile crept across her lips as she sighed in relief and made her way to their table. 

 

“I was getting worried,” she said quietly as she sat down and retrieved her book and quill from her bag. 

 

Draco quirked an eyebrow and cocked his head. Judging by his well-kempt hair, his uniform devoid of wrinkles and the healthy glow to his skin, he had actually gotten a night of proper sleep. “What about?” 

 

“You,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing on Earth, and it  _ should  _ have been. He was the one who was upset the night previous. “After last night I thought you might disappear for a few days again.” 

 

“I really can’t afford more detentions.” Hermione noticed the way his jaw tensed as he spoke, every muscle in his body following suit. She laughed at that, though lightly and cast him a furtive glance out of the corner of her eye. 

 

Professor Vector assigned them two chapters to read and examples to practice once they were done, settling the class into deep concentration. Hermione would glance over at him every so often, but he was always looking down at his textbook.  _ Except  _ for the next time she stole a glance at him. He was smirking at her; never before had she seen him look so smug.  Her lips betrayed her as they twitched upwards and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. 

 

“You could take a picture if you’d like,” he said with a shake of his head, the smile still plastered on his face. “It would certainly last longer.” 

 

Hermione felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She looked back down at her textbook and tried to find the spot where she left off. The way the sunlight illuminated his already white blonde hair and pale skin took the breath right out of her. 

 

“I’d like to keep my eyesight, thanks,” she laughed. 

 

She could still feel his eyes on her and she was sure her cheeks were a bright red. He’d caught her  _ red-handed _ , but when she looked over at him again, she saw that his smug smirk had faded. He was still smiling at her, but this was different. There was a softness in his features that she’d never seen before and it looked as though he was biting back a laugh. 

 

“Think you’re clever, Granger?” he retorted, clearly amused. 

 

“I  _ know  _ I’m clever,” she said, shooting him a wide, toothy grin. 

 

* * *

 

 

The bell rang, signaling the end of their double Arithmancy lesson. Students were already shoving their books back into their bags, and talking amongst themselves. Hermione noticed Draco was taking his time putting away his belongings and so she followed suit. The classroom was beginning to empty, now was her chance to tell him the good news. 

 

“Want to go to the Room during break?” she asked, practically bouncing on her toes with excitement. 

 

Draco swallowed, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Hermione waited for his response as he lifted his bag onto his shoulder. “I don’t really fancy being inside,” he admitted, casting her an apologetic look. 

 

She let out an inaudible sigh and hoisted her bag up as well. “Well it’s a bit cold outside, and Harry has Quidditch practice so it would be risky...” 

 

“The library?” he suggested as they began to make their way out of the classroom. “There’s, you know, big windows. Plenty of sunlight. You won’t be cold there. And Potter won’t see us.” 

 

Hermione smiled warmly at him. She swore she could see a hint of pink invade his cheeks as he smiled back and gestured for her to leave first. 

 

“See you after lunch?” he said.

 

She was almost at the door while he was still standing at their table. He looked...hopeful. Excited. “See you after lunch,” she repeated before giving him a small wave and disappearing into the hall. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione waved good-bye to Harry and Ron as she left the Great Hall after lunch. There were a few sandwiches stashed in her bag and some biscuits. Draco hadn’t been to lunch either, which meant he hadn’t had a single bite to eat all day. 

 

The flutters in her stomach returned as she made her way to the library. Regardless of his mood, she always looked forward to spending time with him. Whether they sat in silence and worked on their assignments or chatted about menial topics or debated topics from History of Magic; spending time with Draco fulfilled her in a way that sometimes left her lacking when she spent time with Harry and Ron. 

 

It was when she got to the first floor that her walk was interrupted by the sound of whispers coming from an empty classroom. Intrigued, Hermione peered in to see two girls, no more than two years below her, huddled together and giggling. Hermione frowned and mulled over whether or not she should do something about it. She thought about just leaving it, and was ready to turn around when she heard one of the girls whisper, “You remembered the love potion, right?” 

 

As soon as the words left the girl’s mouth, Hermione barged in. “Don’t even think about it,” she snapped as she stalked towards the two girls. Upon closer inspection she saw one was a Slytherin and the other was a Ravenclaw. 

 

The two girls glared at her. The Slytherin, a slim, raven-haired girl and dark skin was guarding a small tray of mini cupcakes. The Ravenclaw held a small bottle tightly in one hand, her green eyes boring into Hermione’s, but as soon as their eyes drifted down to her Prefect’s badge, their stares faltered. 

 

“Hand it over,” she demanded fiercely, thrusting out an open hand. When neither moved, she growled and stepped closer to them. “Now.” 

 

Finally, the Ravenclaw caved and thrust the vial into Hermione’s hand. “Happy?” she snapped irritably. 

 

“No,” Hermione said hotly. They were wasting her time that she could be spending in the library with Draco. “Thirty points from each House! And I will be reporting this to your Heads of Houses, so, names. Give them to me.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Honestly, they were utter morons!” she ranted ten minutes later, as Draco sat across from her munching on a biscuit. “A _love potion!_ In the middle of the day! I should write to Fred and George. What are those two playing at, selling those? They know they’re forbidden!” 

 

“One was a Slytherin, you said?” Draco asked after finishing the last of his biscuit. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. She knew he would latch onto that detail. “It wasn’t Pansy. I would have started off with that if it was.” 

 

Draco nodded. “Point taken. Thank Merlin it wasn’t Pansy.” 

 

She cocked an eyebrow, her Charms essay sitting forgotten in front of her. “Pansy would try and slip you a love potion?” 

 

Just the thought of it made her blood boil. Her heart actually  _ ached  _ at the thought of Draco pining after Pansy; of him looking at her lovingly. Well, as lovingly as could be under the influence of a love potion. 

 

Draco shrugged and picked up another biscuit. He hadn’t touched the sandwiches. “I’m not saying she would, but  _ if  _ she did, it wouldn’t surprise me.” 

 

Hermione laughed at that and glanced back down at her half-finished essay. Her heart was beating against her ribcage as she fought the urge to ask him what she desperately wanted to know. 

 

“So you--” she inhaled sharply and tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. “You don’t like Pansy, then?” 

 

There was silence and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. There was a ringing in her ears. The time between her question and his lips pulling into a grin felt like an eternity. And then he was laughing. He flung his head back and rocked the chair back onto two legs. His face was turning red as he just laughed and laughed. Hermione stared at him in bewilderment. Had he gone mad? Was he alright? 

 

“Merlin, no,” he said as he caught his breath. Hermione let out a shaky laugh and smiled. It was like a weight had been lifted. She felt lighter. 

 

“Our parents had started hinting about the two of us in third year, and Pansy got into it a bit, but she’s never really pursued me,” he explained. “Then again, I never showed the slightest bit of interest in her, so maybe she got the hint fairly quickly.” 

 

She shook her head in amusement. Her cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so often. It seemed she did that a lot when she was around Draco. 

 

“What about you and Weasley?” he asked, not looking her directly in the eyes. He seemed fidgety all of a sudden. 

 

Hermione snorted and shook her head vigorously. “No, that’s, erm… That got nipped in the bud months ago actually. One day it just sort of...clicked, that I didn’t like how he acted over things I’ve done. Or things that weren’t even my doing. He was so jealous when Harry and I got invited to Slughorn’s party and he didn’t.” 

 

“Good call on that one,” Draco chuckled, a pleased smile on his lips. 

 

“I thought so too,” she said. She glanced at her watch and realized there was only ten minutes left of their free period. She didn’t want to have to go to double Potions, where she’d likely have to endure working next to Harry, both of them knowing full and well that she and Draco had been in the library again. The only comfort she had was that at least Harry didn’t know they sat together. 

 

“Oh my god,” she muttered, as she remembered what she had meant to tell Draco earlier. How could she have forgotten?

 

Draco was looking at her slightly alarmed. “Care to elaborate on what that big brain of yours is thinking?” 

 

Hermione blinked at him before a wide smile spread across her face. “I completely forgot.” she said, the excitement building inside her again. “Draco, Harry can’t see the Room of Requirement on the map!” 

 

Draco’s face lit up with glee. He leaned forward over the table and whispered, “How do you know that?” 

 

She paused. Draco knew Harry was watching him on the map, but it felt weird actually talking about it to Draco. She licked her lips, and as she did so, she saw Draco’s eyes follow the movement of her tongue. A shiver shot down her spine that she hoped he hadn’t noticed. 

 

“Well,” she said, trying to phrase the situation in the best way possible. “When I came back from rounds last night, Harry told me he had seen us on the seventh floor corridor. But he also said that you had been in the bathroom for a while…”

 

Draco didn’t say anything, though the color had drained from his face. She continued her story, averting her gaze to her essay. “Before that, he said you hadn’t been anywhere on the map. He couldn’t find you. And then all of a sudden...you reappeared. In the seventh floor corridor. And I just...knew.” 

 

She played with the end of her sleeve below the table and returned her gaze to Draco. He was looking at her with a peculiar expression on his face. She had gotten good at reading Draco over the months, but the way he was looking at her now, she just couldn’t put her finger on it. Relieved? Embarrassed? A mixture of both, possibly. 

 

“So I’m-we’d be safe in the Room?” he asked, his voice faint. He wasn’t looking at her, he was gazing off somewhere over her shoulder. He was so deep in thought, she could practically see the gears in his head turning. 

 

“Draco.” she said. 

 

His eyes snapped back to hers and slowly, the corners of his mouth turned up. “Meet in the room Friday night at eleven?” 

 

Not having a clue why he wanted to meet so late, or what he had in mind, she said yes in a heartbeat. 

 

* * *

 

 

The days slipped by much too fast for Hermione’s liking; Monday evening fading into Tuesday morning, Tuesday sliding right into Wednesday and Wednesday flowing into Thursday. The only time she had been able to see Draco was from across the Great Hall at mealtimes and the classes they shared, and miraculously Draco had been in attendance to all meals and classes. He hadn’t missed a single one, and what had been even more shocking was that he had been quite chipper all week. It might have been the most she’d seen him smile and laugh all year. So when Thursday morning rolled around, she couldn’t help but look forward to their Potions lesson. 

 

That is until, she saw the name of the Potion they would be brewing scribbled on the blackboard. 

 

_ Amortentia _

 

 _No, no, no_ , she thought. They could _not_ be brewing this potion. More students began to file in and as their eyes drifted to the blackboard, a murmur broke out among them. Hermione looked around to see that Draco had not yet arrived. A wave of relief crashed over her. The last she thing she wanted was for him to see the panicked look on her face. Because she _knew_ who the potion would remind her of. She couldn’t guess the exact scents that the potion would emit, but it could be any number of things. Old books, a fresh pot of tea, firewhiskey...no matter what the scents, they would all point to Draco. She knew this much. With every passing day it was getting harder and harder to deny how she felt. 

 

“Everyone here?” Professor Slughorn asked, his voice booming over the anxious whispers. 

 

Hermione glanced over at Draco’s usual table, to see him sitting with his Slytherin housemates. He must have arrived when she had been stuck in thought.

 

“Right then,” Professor Slughorn began. “You all have of course, by now, seen what potion you will be brewing today. Now this will require some teamwork, so, pair up with the partners you were given previously.” 

 

Chairs began to scrape, closely followed by numerous groans. Hermione could hear Ron and Harry complaining as they moved to their partner’s tables. She imagined Ron wasn’t too thrilled about brewing Amortentia with Blaise Zabin, and there was no way Harry was looking forward to brewing the potion not only with Pansy Parkinson, but without the Prince’s book as well. 

 

Her legs were shaking as she walked over the Draco’s table. Meanwhile, he had already begun to prepare the table. 

 

“Will you prepare the ingredients?” he asked, more calmly than she could have managed. “I’ll finish setting up and then set up the cauldron.” 

 

All she could do was nod. 

 

“When you’ve finished brewing, discuss with your partner the aroma you smell. This is to test the strength of your potion. The more distinguishable and pungent the scent, the stronger the potion,” Slughorn told them as he snaked between the tables, peering over their shoulders. 

 

Hermione inwardly groaned.  _ This could not get any worse.  _

 

* * *

 

There was just fifteen minutes left of the lesson and Hermione could not wait to get out of the dungeons. Their potion was nearly complete, just a few more stirs and another minute of simmering. Draco had remained quiet as they worked and now he couldn’t seem to sit still. He kept pacing back and forth around their workbench. Assuming she was to finish off the potion, she gave it the final few stirs and turned down the heat to a low simmer. 

 

As the seconds ticked by, Hermione began to notice the fumes rising up out of the cauldron. Out of nowhere, a tidal wave of sandalwood, freshly baked biscuits and burning wood engulfed her senses. It was all she could smell, it was all she could think about it. It was...  _ Draco.  _ Dozens of images of them sitting in the Room of Requirement, sharing biscuits and just talking flashed into her mind. The sandalwood...that came from his cologne, she realised. And the burning wood...of course; how much time had they spent in the presence of a roaring fire? 

 

She swallowed hard and forced herself to look at Draco. His eyes were wide as he stared down into the cauldron. 

 

“I think it’s ready,” she said breathlessly, picking up her quill and a scroll of parchment to record their results. 

 

Draco nodded. “So,” he said, still not looking directly at her. “What do you smell?” 

 

“Why don’t you go first?” she suggested. 

 

“Why would I do that?” he retorted. “I asked you first.” 

 

Even in the midst of this nerve-wracking moment, she managed to give him a sly smile. “True, but I’m holding the quill.” 

 

His face turned sour, and his cheeks were positively pink. She could tell he didn’t want to tell her, and she feared for the worst case scenario. Draco opened his mouth and murmured, “I smell...burning wood.” Her heart skipped a beat. “And old books and... ink.” 

 

If her cheeks weren’t red before, they surely were now. Her heart fluttered and she swore her stomach was doing flips. She had been staring at Draco without realizing it, but when his eyes met hers, she quickly cast her eyes down at the parchment and wrote down his response. 

 

“Okay,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “How strong is the smell?” 

 

It was a silly question. She knew their potion was pungent. The fumes she kept accidentally inhaling were positively overwhelming. All she could smell was him and she didn’t want to say it, but she was positive he had described her. There was something about the way he spoke and averted his eyes. 

 

“It’s...overwhelming,” he said finally after a long moment of silence. 

 

The second she finished writing, Draco snatched the parchment and quill from her. “Now I’ve got the quill,” he said with a smirk. 

 

_ Oh no,  _ she thought.  _ No, no, no. I have to do this, don’t I?  _

 

“I…” she began, running her fingers over the smooth surface of the table. “I smell sandalwood,” she inhaled deeply. “And freshly baked biscuits and...burning wood.” 

 

At the mention of the last scent, his hand stopped moving. His entire body went still as his eyes flickered over to her. All she could hear was the blood rushing through her veins as her heart pounded against her ribcage. 

 

As Draco scribbled the last of her answer, the bell rang, dismissing them from class. The rest of the class hurriedly packed away their belongings as Slughorn shouted over them to hand in their results before leaving. 

 

“I’ll take the parchment to Slughorn,” he told her as the both of them packed away their books as quickly as possible. 

 

She nodded in response and vanished the contents from their cauldron. With their ingredients packed and their equipment put away, they nodded at each other before Draco headed towards the front of the classroom and she bolted for the doors. 

 

* * *

 

In Ancient Runes, Hermione still sat with Draco and he hadn’t asked her to leave, but neither of them spoke a word for the entire double lesson. Every so often, she thought she could feel him looking at her, but she couldn’t find her Gryffindor courage to return his gaze. It had been completely obvious to the both of them back in Potions that what they had smelt was each other, and now, Hermione had no idea what to do. 

 

Towards the end of the lesson, Hermione felt something sharp poke against her elbow. When she turned her head, she saw a piece of parchment with a scribbled message from Draco. 

 

_ I thought I should let you know. I won’t be around for Potions tomorrow. I’ll still be at our room at eleven.  _

 

She read his note three times. He was actually giving her a heads up before disappearing. She looked at him briefly, still shocked, before pulling the parchment towards her and writing her reply. 

 

_ I’ll see you then.  _

 

Hermione slid the parchment back to him and waited to see him nod. After reading her reply, he crumpled the parchment and returned to his work. Her eyes lingered on him longer than they should have before she forced herself to focus on their assignment. 

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, an hour or so after dinner, Hermione found herself in the common room with a book nestled in her lap. A few other Gryffindors lingered about; some working on homework in the corner, others playing chess, or simply chatting. Any other day, she would sit in one of the comfy armchairs right in front of the fire, but today she had pulled a chair over to the window that looked out over the grounds, and sat down. She had been replaying today’s Potions lesson in her head since it had happened, but now that lessons were over and she had a chance to relax, it was the last thing she wanted to think about. 

 

She’d only been attempting to read for a few minutes, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked up and saw Harry looking down at her, shuffling his feet. “Fancy a walk?” he asked. 

 

Judging by the forlorn expression on his face, she assumed this had to do with something other than Draco and the map. Hermione shut her book and gave her best friend a weary smile. A walk sounded like an excellent idea. 

 

Harry remained silent until they reached the grounds. Once they were settled beneath the beech tree by the Black Lake, Harry turned to her and inhaled sharply. “It was Ginny that I smelt today in Potions.” he said, the words practically stringing together, he spoke so fast. 

 

Hermione opened her mouth to respond; she had known Harry had feelings for Ginny for a while now, but she didn’t know he felt this deeply about her.

 

“Frankly, I was glad I wasn’t partnered up with Ron,” he muttered miserably. “At least Parkinson was completely clueless as to who the scents reminded me of.” 

 

A snort escaped her before she could stop it and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, it’s just… Well, Ron is kind of oblivious when it comes to the two of you. He may not have put two and two together.” 

 

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards slightly before his solemn frown returned. “She’s with Dean, Hermione and… Even if she wasn’t, Ron wouldn’t approve.” 

 

“Hm,” she mused. “Maybe.” She scooted closer to Harry to help fight the bitter February cold. “But that shouldn’t stop you from trying. Why should you compromise your happiness?” 

 

Harry scoffed. “Because she’s Ron’s sister! And he’s my best mate.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and rested her head on Harry’s shoulder. Her heart hurt. She wished she could talk to Harry about Draco. She wished she could tell him she liked someone who she feared he and Ron would not accept, but that would be a giveaway. She might as well have said ‘I like Draco Malfoy and I think he likes me too.’ 

 

“Ginny is her own person, Harry. She can make her own choices,” she said softly. “And if Ginny ever decides to give you a chance, there’s nothing Ron can do that will stop her.” 

 

Harry’s body settled against hers and he rested his hands over hers. “Have I ever told you,” he said slowly, “That you’re like the sister I never knew I wanted?” 

 

Hermione smiled into his shoulder and sighed. As they sat together in the cold, staring out at the lake, she hoped that Harry would always feel that way, even if he did find out that she had feelings for Draco Malfoy. 

 

* * *

 

 

True to his word, Draco had disappeared the following day. He hadn’t been at breakfast, lunch and dinner. She hadn’t seen him in the library or in the halls. Not that she had purposely sought out to see if he really would be absent, but rather she happened to notice that he wasn’t there every time her mind was left to wander, and as it turned out, it was an awful decision on his part. Enduring an entire day of classes knowing she wouldn’t see him until much later that night, was absolute torture. She had laid in bed in the morning, debating if she should still go to their room that night. She was terrified; tonight would be their first proper meeting since Potions yesterday. 

 

After arguing the subject with herself throughout the day, she decided in the end that she had to go. Certainly they could talk about it in a mature way. It didn’t  _ have  _ to be awkward. Isn’t this what other people hoped for? That the person they were attracted to also returned the feeling? Shouldn’t she be  _ happy  _ that what she and Draco smelt in Potions was each other, proving that they were both attracted to one another? It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy, it was only that the entire situation was complicated. And maybe...if his attraction to her didn’t equate to any other feelings, her own would be easier to ignore. To push away and bury deep inside her. 

 

At quarter to eleven, Hermione crept out of her dormitory in jeans and a jumper and just like before, checked to see that Harry was asleep. He appeared to be so, as did Neville and the others. Closing the door softly behind her, she headed down the stairs, out the common room and into the seventh floor corridor. She walked quickly to the stretch of wall and once there, paced back and forth while thinking of their room. 

 

When she opened her eyes, the oak door had appeared. She retreated inside and shut it behind her. Draco wasn’t there yet, but she was also six minutes early. To pass the time, she searched through the books on the bookshelf and started a pile for ones she wanted to read. She hadn’t bothered to start a fire or wish for a plate of biscuits and tea. 

 

The minutes continued to pass and at almost ten past eleven, Hermione was starting to think Draco had changed his mind and decided not to show up. Just when she had gotten comfortable on the couch with a book she had read in her early teen years, the door opened and Draco walked in. She took one look at him and shot up from her lounging position. He looked  _ awful.  _

 

“What happened?” she asked, striding towards him. 

 

His face was red, his eyes were puffy, his hair was a mess and there was dried blood on his hands. Draco didn’t answer her as he made his way over to the couch and kicked off his shoes. Hermione stared at him, bewildered by his entrance. 

 

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “Mind telling me why you asked me here so late?”

 

“It’s a Friday night,” Draco said as he took out a bottle of firewhiskey from his bag and sat it down on the coffee table with a thud. “And I think, we deserve a bit of a break.” 

 

“A break?” she said flatly. 

 

He smirked and glanced up at her as a tray with two empty glasses appeared, along with a bucket of ice. “Yes, a break,” he said sarcastically. “You know, something normal people do.” 

 

Hermione walked towards the couch slowly. Why was he being so nonchalant? “Draco, you’re hurt. And… You look upset.” She didn’t want to tell him she could tell he’d been crying again. “Are you sure a drink--”

 

“Granger,” his voice was sharp and crisp in the otherwise silent room. “Will you please just sit down and have a drink with me?” 

 

With a sigh, she resigned and sat down on the couch next to him. Not  _ too _ close. She made sure there were several inches between them. She watched as Draco poured her a glass. 

 

“Ice?” he asked.

 

“No, thank you.” 

 

He handed her the glass and set about fixing his own. Hermione took a sip and let the amber liquid slide down her throat. Draco had finished making his glass and leaned back against the couch, letting out a long groan, as though he’d had a grueling day of work. Hermione kicked off her shoes as well and folded her legs under her bum. 

 

“Sandalwood, huh?” Draco murmured, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. 

 

“Oh shut up,” she retorted through a breathy laugh. “Better than old books and ink!” 

 

“It’s not my fault we spend a lot of time doing homework and reading,” he teased, cracking one eye open to look at her. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and took another sip of Firewhiskey. Silence settled between them and to her surprise, it wasn’t awkward. Draco hummed after taking another sip. Already, she could see his body relaxing. 

 

“I’m sorry if I fall asleep,” he said sleepily.

 

She laughed and set her drink down on the coffee table. It was slightly chilly in the room and no longer could she resist lighting a fire. “It’s fine,” she said as she went over to the fire place. “There’s some books I wanted to read anyway. You can sleep for a few hours if you want.” 

 

Draco nodded and spread out across the couch. He must have wished for a blanket as one appeared and he slipped it over his body. Hermione toyed with the logs before drawing her wand and igniting the wood. She stood up quickly, not wanting to inhale the familiar scent and went over to the armchair with the book she had begun to read. 

 

She settled down with her glass of firewhiskey, a blanket that she had wished for herself, and her book and picked up where she left off while Draco easily drifted off to sleep. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Granger,” his voice was soft and brittle as he lay on the couch. 

 

Hermione looked up from her book and set it down in her lap. He’d been sleeping for only two hours or so, and she thought he would have slept longer, given his appearance upon his arrival. When she looked at him, his grey eyes were already staring right at her. He offered her a weak smile as she got up and sat next to him. Her hand shook slightly as she reached out to brush his fringe away from his eyes which fluttered closed for a moment, a small, shaky breath escaping his lips. 

 

“I should be getting back,” she whispered. “It’s late…” 

 

“Stay with me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Please.” 

 

She stammered for a moment. “Draco, I… The map doesn’t show the Room, but what if Harry notices I’m not in bed?” 

 

He smiled at her and to her surprise, he placed his hand over hers. His thumb brushed over her skin, sending tingles up her arm and down her spine. “We’ve always been able to think of something.” 

 

Hermione let out a soft chuckle. “We have, haven’t we?” 

 

Draco hummed in agreement and closed his eyes again. Hermione thought he might fall back asleep but then he was opening his eyes again and adjusted himself into a sitting position. He yawned and perched his feet up on the coffee table. His half-finished glass of Firewhiskey sat on the table where he left it, and he proceeded to pick up and take a swig from. 

 

She’d had about two glasses herself since he had fallen asleep and her eyelids felt heavy, and she couldn’t help notice that he smelt  _ really  _ good. There was that hint of sandalwood and some sort of spice and slumber. She let her body settle next to his, their sides touching. Her head fell onto his shoulder and she didn’t bother to move. 

 

“You know,” Draco said softly as he swirled the remaining liquid around in his glass. “I never thought that it would be you.” 

 

Even though he couldn’t see her face, she frowned. “What do you mean?” 

 

“I never imagined myself talking to you in a civilized manner, let alone...” he inhaled sharply and took another sip of Firewhiskey. “Let alone becoming friends with you and...caring about you,” he said so quietly she almost hadn’t caught what he said. 

 

“Believe me,” she said. “I had no intentions of befriending a sarcastic, narcissistic git.” 

 

Draco barked out a laugh at that as he slipped one arm loosely around her shoulders. She thought of moving away from him, but that would only ruin the moment and she was tired and he was warm and it wasn’t as if this was something  _ significant.  _ Just the other night she and Harry sat in a similar position under the beech tree. 

She should have kept her gaze on the painting by the door, but he was looking at her and she could feel it and so she tilted her head up to find his face only centimeters from hers, his breath tickling her nose. His lips were slightly parted and something deep down inside of her was urging her to close the distance between them. To finally feel what his lips would feel like against hers. And for a split second, she inched her head towards his. He was right there…

 

“Draco,” she whispered, hating herself for what she was about to say. “We’ve been drinking and…”

 

His head tipped forward slightly, his fringe falling over his eyes. He knew what she was going to say. 

 

“You’re right,” he muttered as he settled back against the couch.  

 

_ I’m always right.  _ She thought bitterly. 


	21. Victims

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24 and holy moly it is brilliant, so we hope you all enjoy!! 
> 
> Just a reminder that this fic is a collab between myself and oeuvre24. We take turns in writing chapters, I write every even numbered chapter, and she writes every odd numbered chapter.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your love and reviews. Happy reading!!!

When Hermione had woken on Saturday morning, she had a dull throbbing in her head and a funny taste in her mouth due to the small amount of firewhiskey she had drank the night before. She wasn’t used to alcohol in the slightest, and didn’t  _ really _ like it, and her headache and lack of motivation to get out of bed only proved that point further. After finally dragging herself to breakfast, she had spent the majority of the day in the library starting on some homework that was due early next week, and successfully managed to complete one of her essays before lunchtime.

 

The only time she had seen Draco that day was when he attended dinner in the Great Hall, but didn’t enter with, or sit with any of his housemates. She couldn’t say that she was completely surprised, but she was rather confused about how some days he could be walking with them and talking to them then other days he had nothing to do with them. She shut down that thought rather quickly however, when it came to her attention that she had been doing the same thing with Harry and Ron.

 

On Sunday, she hadn’t been lucky on finding a moment to spend time with Draco. A part of her was still embarrassed over having to admit that the Amortentia had shown her that the smells she was attracted to the most, was what she could smell from Draco, and that he had smelt her in return. She wanted to think that the discovery wouldn’t change anything between the two of them, as she truly cherished every moment that she could spend with him and was glad that they had managed to overcome their differences to form the friendship they had. While she wanted to think nothing would change, she knew that realistically, it would. She just didn’t know if it would be for better or worse.

 

By the time Monday morning rolled around, Hermione wanted nothing more than to start her classes and think only of her school work. The entire weekend had been full of confusing thoughts and second guessing of herself and she desperately wanted to leave it all behind her. Her first class of the day was Ancient Runes, and despite her initial idea of taking her time eating breakfast so she would arrive to class just as the bell went, she plucked up some courage and arrived at the classroom with five or so minutes to spare. Her trepidation of seeing Draco before class after what had happened in their Room on Friday night, was all to waste as he wasn’t waiting by the door as he had been the week before. She couldn’t deny that some part of her was upset at that and she began to wonder if it was because of  _ her _ that he wasn’t at class.

 

When the bell rang, she was let into class along with the other students who had arrived, and she took her usual seat at the back. She successfully managed to put the thought of Draco and their almost-kiss to the back of her mind and put her sole concentration and motivation into the translations they were set to work on that lesson. Ten minutes into class, however, the door swung open, causing everyone to turn their heads to see who had come in. It was Draco, who she was glad to see wasn’t looking tired or on a breaking point, although he did look rather angry. He walked to the front of the classroom, telling Professor Babbling that Professor Snape had needed to speak to him, and that he sent his apologies for keeping Draco from class. Babbling nodded and told Draco what they were working on, and sent him to his seat.

 

He sat next to Hermione and started to take his work from his bag. “Is everything okay?” She whispered quietly to him.

 

Draco shrugged and put his bag down and then picked up his quill. “Peachy,” he replied quietly, and that had been the extent of their conversation that lesson as the translations they were required to do needed as much concentration as they could possibly give. Hermione finished her translations with some time to spare before the class ended, and she took out a spare piece of parchment.

 

_ Will you be in the library today? _ She wrote and pushed it towards him.

 

He took a glance at the paper and wrote his reply.

 

_ No, I have Astronomy and was going to work on my homework with Blaise in the common room. _

 

She bit the inside of her cheek and looked away from the parchment between them, trying not to show any hard feelings. She shouldn’t care that Draco wouldn’t come to the library with her and was going to spend his time with Zabini instead. She  _ shouldn’t _ , but she did. She couldn’t help but think that maybe it was because of what occurred in their Room on Friday night.

 

Just before the bell went, Draco nudged her arm and she looked at him. She furrowed her brows when he pointed to the parchment, and she saw that he had written something else.

 

_ I’m sorry. We’ll go to our Room tomorrow. Promise. _

 

* * *

Hermione had guessed that seeing Draco’s eagle owl fly through the Great Hall along with the other birds on Tuesday morning was a bad sign. She was perceptive, and over the last few months she had definitely picked up on the patterns of Draco’s behaviour, and she knew for a fact that every time a letter was delivered to him, he disappeared for days at a time, sometimes a whole week  _ and _ some.

 

She bit the inside of her cheek as she watched the owl land in front of Draco’s plate of breakfast, and she hoped that it was carrying him a packet of sweets, or he had ordered something from a shop in Diagon Alley. Her heart sank as she watched him untie the scroll from his owl’s leg, and saw his face grow whiter with every passing second as he read the letter.

 

“No…” She whispered, barely any noise escaping her at all, when Draco stood up from the bench and exited the Great Hall without a second glance at anyone else.

 

He didn’t live up to his promise of meeting her in their Room later that day, nor did he attend lunch or dinner. Although Hermione wasn’t surprised anymore over his disappearance, it still stirred something within her. Sadness, that something or some _ one _ was causing this much pain and stress to Draco; worry over what he was doing; and a sense of determination to get to the bottom of the mystery of what his letters contained.

 

* * *

 

The rest of Tuesday passed by without a sign of Draco anywhere in the castle. Hermione had not gotten her hopes up of seeing him the next day, which was a good thing, as he didn’t present himself at any meal time, or their Arithmancy lessons in the morning. She entered the Great Hall on Thursday morning with Harry, as they planned to go to Herbology together. Hermione was convinced he had suddenly wanted to walk with her when he spotted that she had an umbrella, and he just didn’t want to walk through the rain which hadn’t stopped pouring since the night before. She told him this, and in truly typical Harry-fashion, he grinned and denied all accusations.

 

Having breakfast with Harry boosted her mood considerably. She had woken that morning in a sullen mood anyway -- the rain always made her moods a little worse --, and having Harry to laugh and joke with over breakfast made her believe that the day might turn out a little better than she had first anticipated it too.

 

During a break in conversation as Harry found his eggs on toast more inviting than talking, Hermione took a gulp of orange juice and almost choked on it when she saw Draco walk through the hall doors after Theodore Nott. She couldn’t believe how soon he reappeared after getting his letter, and was suddenly desperate for breakfast and morning classes to finish so she could speak to him in Ancient Runes after morning break. She lowered her cup from her lips when Draco glanced in her direction and tilted his head in the slightest. She let him know she had seen the gesture, by giving him a half smile, quirking the corner of her lips before she turned to Harry quickly and asked him about when his next Quidditch practice was; the last thing she needed was for Harry to spot Draco in the Hall and start making absurd accusations.

 

* * *

 

 

Trying to talk in Ancient Runes proved pointless, as Professor Babbling spent the first lesson giving them an enthusiastic lecture on a new type of ruin and it’s history that they would be learning over the next few classes. The most interaction she got with Draco was managing to say hello to him as he sat down just as the bell rang, and then her concentration -- and his -- was fully on their Professor.

 

As soon as Professor Babbling finished her lecture and instructed the class from which pages they would be working on for the remainder of the lesson, Hermione turned to Draco. “Where have you been?” She whispered.

 

Draco shrugged. “I’m back now,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to our Room the other day.”

 

“You didn’t make it to any classes either.  _ Or _ meals,” she reminded him rather snippily. “I’m  going to our Room after Charms this afternoon. Will you be there or will I prepare myself to be alone for the night?” She knew she was being rather harsh, but she was very close to succumbing to her annoyance and frustration of having Draco leave over and over and never giving her one hint of a warning.

 

“I’ll be there,” Draco agreed. “I mean it this time.”

 

She didn’t reply, but sniffed haughtily and turned to her work.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite her annoyance with Draco in Ancient Runes, Hermione  _ did _ trust him to come to their Room that afternoon. Well, really she had just spent a lot of time convincing herself that he would have enough of a conscience not to lie to her twice in a week and run the risk of facing her anger.

 

Her trust in him paid off, when he arrived only five minutes after she had, and said hello as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She greeted him, and they both engaged in some small talk about what she had done in Charms, and then a silent and mutual agreement between them caused them to quietly work on their homework. He sat on one end of the couch whilst she sat on the floor cross-legged, using the coffee table as a surface to write a Transfiguration essay.

 

Time wore on, and when the bell sounded through the castle, indicating the end of the last class of the day, she knew that she had to speak up about her concerns for Draco’s wellbeing. She couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself anymore. She  _ had _ to ask him. She had to know. Though, she did know for a fact that the conversation could go one of two ways. It could go well, and he could release some of the burden from his shoulders and help her understand things better and give her an opportunity to help;  _ or _ , it could anger him that she would bring it up, and drive a wedge between their friendship.

 

She inhaled slowly through her nose, then placed her quill down on the coffee table beside her parchment, and stood from the floor to sit beside Draco on the couch. “Draco?” She asked.

 

He raised an eyebrow and lifted his gaze from the book resting on his lap. “Granger,” he said.

 

“I have a question,” she said, after finding her courage to go through with it, regardless of the consequences. He looked down at his book and folded the top corner of the page and then closed it over and set it down on the coffee table beside her own work. He sat back and looked at her, and she took it as her cue to go on. “I noticed that you’ve been getting letters every now and then.” As she spoke, her eyes flitted down to the couch between them, suddenly starting to regret bringing it up, especially when she saw the fingers on his left hand curl into a fist. “Every time you do get them, you always leave. Skip classes, skip dinners…”

 

She waited a few moments before she looked him in the eye again, but he wasn’t looking her way. Her initial impression of him being angry due to the curl of his fists, was betrayed by the look on his face where she could see that he looked...sad?

 

“Is everything okay outside of Hogwarts?” She asked, no longer worried that he would be angered by her questioning. “Is your mother okay?” She paused before continuing. “Your father?”

 

Her last question made him snap his head up and look at her. His jaw clenched tightly and his nostrils flared slightly as he exhaled sharply. “What do you care about my parents?” He snapped.

 

Hermione stood her ground. “I care about you, and I know that if anything was to happen to them it would affect you badly too,” she said.

 

“Something bad already has happened! My father is in  _ prison _ , and I can’t do  _ anything _ to get him out of there,” Draco said, his voice wavering the more he spoke. “My mother and I don’t know a thing about what’s happening there. She can’t visit him, we can’t write him, we can’t do anything about it!” His voice rose to a shout and Hermione reached out to place her hands on his clenched fists.

 

She didn’t know how to assure him. She couldn’t say that the Malfoy patriarch didn’t deserve to be in Azkaban, because in her belief, and the Ministry’s, he did deserve punishment for working with Voldemort and participating in the events that had happened in the Department of Mysteries the year before. “Draco. Look at me,” she said softly, and once he met her eyes, she continued. “Azkaban doesn’t break everyone in there,” she told him. “And… If you got your own strength and your own resilience from your father, then he will not be broken.”

 

Draco swallowed hard and she knew he had to be clenching his jaw so hard that it hurt. “But my mother…”

 

“Will be fine,” she finished for him. “You have to give us women some credit,” she said with a small smile. “We can survive without a man around us.”

 

The comment made him give the slightest of smiles, and he dropped his head slightly. “I...I miss him, though,” he said after a period of silence. Hermione held his hands tighter at the admission, knowing that it would have been hard for him to say. “I didn’t think I would, but I do.”

 

“He’s your father,” Hermione said. “Of course you’re going to miss him, regardless of anything else.”

 

“I kept trying to pretend that he wasn’t in prison,” Draco said. “And that he was just at home with my mother, but not sending me letters or gifts. But the longer I go without word from either of them, the harder it’s getting to try and pretend.”

 

Hermione’s eyes widened slightly, but she played her surprise down, and rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand and watched as he stared down at his lap. He had just admitted that his mother wasn’t sending him the letters that he’d been receiving through the year. Worry churned in her gut as she tried to think of who else would be sending him letters that evoked so much worry and stress in him that he would miss meals and classes for days at a time.

 

“Should I be pretending?” Draco asked, lifting his head up to look at her.

 

She schooled her features back to normal before he could realise. “You should be doing whatever makes you feel alright,” she said. “I’m sure your father would be proud of the way you’re handling this all.”

 

Draco let out a humourless breath of a laugh. “I can’t believe I’m saying all of this to you. You have every reason to hate my father after what he’s done and what he...thinks.”

 

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip then shook her head slightly. “It’s affecting you. I care about you, Draco, you know that. Of course I’m going to listen to you and try to help.”

 

She looked down at their hands when Draco uncurled his fingers and turned his hands so his palms faced upwards. She didn’t say a word when his fingers threaded through her own, so they were holding hands. “You’ve made me rethink everything I was taught by my father,” he admitted quietly, and when she looked at his face, she found he wasn’t looking at her, but down at their hands. “Spending time with you...it’s made me realise that everything he taught me doesn’t make sense.”

 

She hid her happiness over the fact that Draco could finally admit it outloud. She knew of course, that his views on Muggleborns had changed; why else would he be spending so much time with her? But to hear him admit it out loud, to hear him say to her how he thought his father was  _ wrong _ , meant more than the world to her.

 

He pulled back one of his hands from hers and then slowly pushed up the sleeve of her jumper, exposing the inside of her wrist. He put two fingers to her skin, and moved them slowly. She didn’t say a word, but had to remind herself to keep breathing normally, and watched to see what he’d do. His index finger traced along the blue-green vein shown from under her skin, and he stopped his finger to feel the blood pulsing under it. His finger was tracing her veins. The veins that ran the blood he had grown up thinking was like dirt, back to her heart. The veins the same as his.

 

“It’s not different,” he murmured, and continued to move his finger across the veins visible on her wrist. “It’s just the same as mine.”

 

She finally found her voice. “Of course it’s the same,” she whispered and looked at his face where his eyes had lifted to look at her as she spoke. “We’re humans;  nothing more, nothing less. What I have in my blood, is what is in yours too, regardless of anything else.” She felt his touch leave her wrist, and she lifted both of her hands to his face, cradling his cheeks in her palms. “Draco…” She breathed. “I am...I’m so  _ proud _ of you,” she said surely. He needed to hear it. He needed to hear that someone was proud of him. She truly was.

 

“Don’t,” he whispered and averted his eyes.

 

She only pulled him closer, her forehead touching his own. “Listen to me,” she said firmly. “You are a  _ good _ person, Draco. You are. Don’t you  _ dare _ let anyone tell you differently, okay?” She could feel his body shaking slightly, as he held something in. He didn’t say one more word to her.

 

Hermione didn’t say anything when he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her. She only held him back. As tightly as she could.

 

To her disbelief and sadness, Draco did not appear at breakfast the next morning; nor did she see him in any of their classes together. When she sat in Potions on Friday afternoon, she couldn’t stop herself from looking over at his empty workspace, remembering the way he had shook as she held him tightly, and that when he had eventually pulled back from their hug, that she had felt a hint of wetness on her shoulder where his face had pressed against.

 

* * *

 

 

The click of the door made Hermione look up from her book. She hadn’t been expecting Draco to meet her in the Room, since she hadn’t seen him at all at dinner on Friday night or the whole of Saturday, and they hadn’t made any plans to meet up. Her brows furrowed as she took in his tired appearance. “Is everything okay, Draco?” She asked quietly and stood up from the couch, letting the blanket that had been over her legs, fall to the ground.

 

He gave a brusque nod and clenched his jaw. “I need…” He trailed off. His voice was so quiet and weak she had to move closer to properly hear him. He stopped talking and shoved his hands in his pockets.

 

“What do you need?” She asked and stood right in front of him. When he didn’t answer her or speak a word, she probed further. “Hey,” she said softly. “You can tell me.”

 

He nodded again. “I’m tired,” he admitted.

 

She didn’t need him to tell her that as she could see clearly from the prominent dark circles under his eyes, his paler than usual complexion, and the way he seemed to sway ever so slightly as he stood. “Lucky we’re in a Room that can give you what you need then,” she said and gave him a smile which he returned half heartedly. She thought to herself of needing somewhere that Draco could have an undisturbed and comfortable sleep, and when she turned around, there was a large four poster bed -- larger than any bed she had ever seen before -- on the other side of the room with the headboard against the wall. “Come on,” she turned her head back to him and then walked to the bed and she could hear him follow her.

 

She stopped at the side of the bed and when she turned to look at him, her eyes widened when she saw what he was doing. “Uh, what...What are y--”

 

Draco looked up at her, but his hands continued to undo the belt from around his trousers. “I’m not sleeping with a belt on,” he said and tiredly lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk as her cheeks flushed red.

 

“Oh… Yes. Right. Well, go on,” she waved her hand awkwardly and stared at the floor. She saw him take off his shoes and set them by the foot of the bed and then place his belt down next to them too. As she hoped that he wouldn’t get  _ completely _ out of his clothes, she pulled back the thick covers on the side of the bed she was standing at and felt a twinge of jealousy that Draco would get to sleep in such a cosy and comfortable looking bed. She stepped back when Draco moved forward and she noticed that he’d taken off his tie too, and he climbed into bed, sighing heavily when he lay on his back with his head resting on the pillow.

 

“This is the best bed I’ve ever been on,” he mumbled and Hermione laughed quietly and watched him pull the covers up and roll onto his side to face her as she still stood by the side of the bed.

 

“When did you last sleep properly?” She asked him before a silence could fall between them.

 

He shrugged a shoulder. “A couple of days ago, I think,” he answered and Hermione pursed her lips. “Don’t,” he said when she opened her mouth to speak. “I know it’s bad, you don’t need to scold me.”

 

Hermione stared at him and shut her mouth again. She waited a few seconds before she moved backwards. “I’ll let you rest,” she said. “I’ll just be on the couch, I have some work to do.” He nodded and she turned to the couch to resume reading Wards, Charms and Enchantments to Become Untraceable. When she next looked over her shoulder towards the bed five minutes later, she saw that Draco was fast asleep.  _ Good _ , she thought. He needed sleep more than anything else.

* * *

 

She continued to read for several hours, at one point taking out a sheet of parchment to write notes and spells down that she would have to show Harry and Ron at a later time. Admittedly, reading all about the different types wards and protective enchantments spiked some worry and trepidation inside of her. Although she loved a challenge and was always eager to learn, there was the added thoughts that she would  _ have _ to know these spells perfectly, because if she didn’t, she might be paying for it with her life.

 

At that sobering thought, she closed the book with the piece of parchment marking her page, and placed it on the coffee table, and after thinking that she needed some tea, saw a silver tray appear next to the book with a plate of biscuits and a large, hot mug of tea on it. She enjoyed the drink and the snacks, not having realised how hungry she was until she took her first bite. Taking a break from her reading managed to cool her mind off slightly, and she enjoyed the peace and relaxation that always came with having a steaming drink of tea.

 

A look at her watch once she had finished drinking, startled Hermione into swinging her legs off the couch and standing up. She had moved too quickly and her head pounded in protest and she had to blink several times to steady herself again. It was coming close to dinner time, and since she hadn’t seen Draco at breakfast, and due to the fact that he had been sleeping through lunchtime and she hadn’t had anything to eat either, she knew she should wake him so they could have something to eat before they had to go back to their common rooms.

 

Turning to look at the bed, she was quite taken aback when she saw Draco. She had certainly seen him relaxed before, and seen what he could be like when he wasn’t so full of stress and anger, but what she saw of him then was different. He looked...younger. It was the only way she could explain it. Gone was the creased forehead he always got when he was stressed, and his lips weren’t curled into a smirk or a frown, but rather relaxed as he slept. She noticed the slight pink tint to his cheeks too, and knew that him sleeping for so long was going to be good for him.

 

She felt bad needing to wake him, but he had been sleeping since around eleven that morning, and she knew if she didn’t take action now, he wouldn’t go to dinner or sleep that night either. She knew waking him was for the best.

 

Hermione approached the bed and bit down on her bottom lip as she slowly and gently perched herself on the side. She could hardly resist herself, and reached out her hand, ignoring the slight shake to her fingers, and lightly touched his cheek. He was warm, and no wonder from how he had buried himself under the covers. She noted how his fingers were curled into the quilt and his other arm was resting under his pillow.

 

She moved her finger gently, and traced along his cheekbone and then up to his forehead. Her breath seemed to be stuck in her throat, as she hoped he wouldn’t wake just yet, and she let her touch travel down the bridge of his nose. A smile came onto her face when she remembered the one of the last times that she had touched his face in any way was when she had smacked him in their third year. Her finger traced off his nose and then over the bow of his lips, and she stopped moving at once when she saw his cheek twitch. She didn’t have time to do anything else, or pretend that she hadn’t been doing anything, as his eyes slowly opened and he squinted tiredly at her. “Hey,” she breathed, that being the only thing she could think to say.

 

He laughed quietly and moved his hand to his face to rub at his eyes. “Hey,” he responded and she had to bite the inside of her cheek when she heard how deep and croaky his voice was, and her cheeks felt a little warmer than before. “Do you always go around touching people when they sleep?” He smirked.

 

“Shut up,” she muttered but had a shy smile on her face. She looked at the covers between him then back to his face. “You’ve slept for about seven hours,” she told him and put her hands on her lap when he pushed the mattress to sit up.

 

“Feels like it too,” he said and covered his mouth when he yawned widely. She couldn’t help but think of how intimate it seemed, that she was there as he woke up from his sleep, and that she had been around him at his most vulnerable.

 

She smiled when she looked at his hair which was sticking up in all directions. “So you  _ don’t _ always have perfect hair, hm?” She asked, and instinctively reached her hands up and tried to smooth down the unruly strands. She moved closer to him to pat down the back of his hair which he had messed up as he slept.

 

He chuckled and she noticed how close they had become since she moved forward to fix his hair. “You think I have perfect hair, do you?”

 

Hermione turned her stare to him instead of his hair, and then she stopped moving her fingers to brush it down. “I can easily mess it up again for you,” she retorted.

 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he smiled.

 

* * *

The last week of February passed by quickly, and much to Hermione’s happiness: enjoyably. She had made an effort to spend more time with Harry in the common room before retiring for bed, and sitting with him and Ron in the classes they all shared together. Along with reconciling with her best friends, Draco had been present every day at meals and in classes, and not once did they bicker or show any hint of annoyance at the other. Things were becoming…normal again. She knew for a fact that Harry wasn’t checking his Map  _ as _ religiously as he had been since coming up with the idea, so the times she spent with Draco in the library during their free periods, or in their Room some evenings, weren’t fraught with hesitation or the constant feeling of having the need to hide.

 

She should have been prepared for something bad to happen. As much as she didn’t want to wish it, or want it to happen, she knew just from her luck alone that she couldn’t have  _ that  _ good of a week without a stark reminder that they were still in the real world. And the real world didn’t like to be forgotten.

 

Hermione slipped her arms into the sleeves of her jumper and pulled it over her head on Saturday morning. She knew it would be cold out in the castle, but didn’t particularly want to be wearing her heavy winter jacket too. She didn’t say anything to Lavender and Parvati as she left, both of them sitting on the latter’s bed, chatting away to each other. It was Ron’s birthday, and she had planned to meet him and Harry in the Great Hall along with Ginny, Dean, Seamus, Neville and Luna to wish him a happy birthday, and then exchange gifts later in the day.

 

Her stomach rumbled uncomfortably as she descended the stairs to head to the Gryffindor common room, and when she reached the last step she gave a surprised gasp and almost stumbled when she saw Professor McGonagall standing at the bottom. If she hadn’t have been careful and watching where she was going, she would have walked straight into her teacher.

 

Getting over her initial shock, Hermione took in the older witch’s expression. “Professor?” She asked. She had rarely seen the morose look on Professor McGonagall’s face before, and it struck a chord of worry inside of her. Immediately, she thought of the worst things that could happen to cause McGonagall to have to meet her in the common room, but before she could begin to panic, her mentor spoke.

 

“Ron Weasley has been involved in an accident this morning,” McGonagall said. “Madam Pomfrey is healing up right as I speak, and he is doing fine, but I’ve come to tell you if you feel it necessary to keep Mister Potter company outside the hospital wing. You won’t be allowed in until Madam Pomfrey has finished what she needs to do.”

 

Hermione’s mouth parted in shock as she stared at her teacher. Ron had an accident? Her heart began to pound loudly in her chest as she felt herself beginning to panic even more. “What happened?” She asked as Professor McGonagall turned to walk with her towards the common room exit.

 

“From what Mister Potter told myself and the Headmaster, there was a mishap in the Potions’ classroom this morning,” McGonagall explained and Hermione stood aside to let her go through the portrait hole first. “You can ask Potter all about it when you get to the Infirmary, but I ask you that you all otherwise keep it quiet and amongst yourselves.”

 

“Of course,” Hermione said breathlessly and nodded. She still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that Ron was lying in the Infirmary, injured after an accident. Her breath caught in her throat when she remembered another student who had been in a similar situation that school year… “Is it like what happened to Katie?” She asked quickly, wanting to jog down the stairs to get to Ron quicker, but reasoning that she should walk alongside McGonagall if she had come all the way to the seventh floor to collect her.

 

“No,” Professor McGonagall shook her head. “There was no Dark object involved this time.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at the news. Whilst she knew what happened to Ron was serious, due to him being in the hospital wing, she wouldn’t have wanted anything to happen to him, or anyone else, in a similar way of what had happened to Katie. Hermione began to hope and wish on everything she could think of, that there would be no need for Ron to go to St. Mungo’s, and that  _ surely _ Madam Pomfrey would be able to make him as good as ever, again. He might even be out by dinner time… McGonagall’s grim expression kept her wild hopes at bay, however.

 

They were in a dark period of time in the Wizarding World; Hermione knew it. The thought didn’t make it any easier to grasp the news, and she could feel the familiar stinging in her eyes as tears began to form. “Does…” She began and took a quick breath to steady her voice, “Does Ginny know?” She asked. “The rest of Ron’s family, too?”

 

“Yes,” McGonagall nodded. She had heard the wavering in Hermione’s voice, and turned to look at her. Hermione had been watching her steps ahead, when McGonagall placed a hand on her shoulder. Hermione looked at her and slowed her steps. “Stay strong, Miss Granger,” the other witch said. “I’ll let you go to the Infirmary by yourself. I’m sure the less people there, the better.”

 

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to say a word, and when her Professor’s hand left her shoulder, she turned to the next staircase and took off at a run.

 

There weren’t many students in the hallways as she ran through them and down the stairs to get to the hospital wing on the first floor. She couldn’t have cared less at the students who looked at her as she ran past, some of them even stopping to turn and look behind them once she had torn past. She didn’t care. She needed to get to Ron. What if it was more serious than what Professor McGonagall had lead her on to believe? What if something truly dreadful was going to happen to Ron, something life altering, or even worse...fatal.

 

Her breathing was ragged and there were tears freely falling from her eyes as she rounded the last corner to get to the Infirmary and at the end of the corridor she saw Harry sitting with his back to the wall, and Ginny standing, half-perched on a windowsill. The sound of her running down the hall caused the both of them to look up, and Harry was on his feet in an instant, and not longer after, Hermione barreled straight into him and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. “What h-happened?” She asked through her crying as Harry held her back tightly which immediately helped to start calming her down.

 

“It was a mess,” Harry admitted, and Hermione pulled back with wide eyes. “No, not literally!” He assured her quickly, and her chest relaxed. His words had made her think horrible thoughts on what had happened. Harry’s hand came up to her cheek and he used his finger to swipe away her tears. “It’s okay,” he said to her, giving her his typical-Harry-smile that always made her feel a little bit calmer; a little bit safer.

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Hermione asked and sniffled a little bit.

 

Harry nodded, but she didn’t miss the small shrug he made either. “He was poisoned,” he told her. “But Madam Pomfrey told me I did the right thing and he should be getting better.”

 

“ _ What _ ?” She exclaimed. “Poisoned? By who? Harry, you need to tell me everything,” she said and grabbed his hand to pull him nearer to where Ginny was sitting up at the window. “Hi, Ginny,” she greeted the youngest Weasley, who was looking quite pallid, but greeted her with a normal smile.

 

“Hey,” Ginny said back and hopped off the window sill and sat down on the stone floor. Harry and Hermione both did the same. “Go on, Harry,” she gestured to him, “I know I’ve heard it, but Hermione needs to hear too. We need to know what she thinks.”

 

Hermione’s brows furrowed, but she turned to Harry, who began to speak. “Really it was all my fault to begin with. Remember the Chocolate Cauldrons that Romilda got me for Christmas? The ones you thought might be spiked with love potion? I never opened them, but I threw them away near Ron’s bed this morning when I was looking for my--” he cut himself off, “When I was looking for something in my trunk,” he quickly corrected himself which made Hermione narrow her eyes. “Then next thing I knew, Ron was blabbering about how he was in love with Romilda, and--”

 

“She poisoned him with love potion?” Hermione asked. “How could that have happened? Unless Fred and George sent her something faulty, I--”

 

“It wasn’t the love potion,” Harry interrupted her like she had with him, and she quietened down. “I took him to Slughorn, I didn’t know what else to do. Slughorn got the antidote, which was fine and it worked, then he offered us some mead that he said he was meant to give to Dumbledore.” Harry’s brows furrowed as he spoke.

 

“That early in the morning?” Hermione was equally confused, but then she shook her head as she knew she was going off track. “It doesn’t surprise me that he still had it after he was meant to give it to Dumbledore.”

 

“Luckily he didn’t,” Ginny said, and Harry nodded.

 

“It was the mead that had the poison in it,” he explained, and Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Ron was the only one that took a drink of it and he just...dropped. Started foaming at the mouth and everything.”

 

“Oh, God…” Hermione breathed. No wonder Ron was taken immediately to the hospital wing. “How did you get him here on time?” She asked, knowing just how bad things could get if someone were to drink poison; Wizarding  _ or _ Muggle.

 

“I found a bezoar and shoved it down his throat,” Harry said. “It was strange… It worked so quickly and then he just stopped moving altogether. Slughorn ran to go get help and came back with Madam Pomfrey, and I followed them up here when they levitated him into the Infirmary.”

 

Hermione’s eyes were wide and her brain was full of the brand new information Harry had just told her. “You saved him, Harry,” she said. “All it would have taken was a few more seconds, and…”

 

“I don’t want to think what would have happened,” Harry said quietly, and Hermione felt like she was intruding on something when Ginny reached over and brushed her fingers through Harry’s hair and then made him look at her.

  
“That doesn’t matter. You saved my brother,” she said strongly. Harry looked her in the eyes for a few seconds then nodded.

 

“He has to stay here for a week,” Harry said after a few minutes of silence between them all, for which Hermione was grateful, just so she could wrap her head around what had occurred. “He needs to keep taking Essence of Rue. I don’t know when he’ll be awake, though.”

 

“All that matters is he’s getting better,” Hermione said. “He’ll...He’ll be fine. No matter what. He’ll be able to pull through it.”

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day passed by at an agonisingly slow pace. Shortly after Hermione had reached Harry and Ginny, Mr and Mrs Weasley had arrived but hadn’t stopped to chat to them, instead walking straight into the Infirmary. They didn’t come out again, and at twelve o’clock, Professor McGonagall arrived. She approached Hermione, Harry and Ginny, and all three of them stood. “You should all try and eat something for lunch. Mister Weasley is in safe hands and now has his parents, as you saw. I take it none of you had breakfast?” She asked, and they all shook their heads. “Go on. I will come get you myself if anything happens.”

 

It had taken a little convincing to Ginny to get her to come to lunch with them, but after assuring her that her brother was in the most capable of hands and that her parents would make sure nothing bad would happen, she walked in the middle of Harry and Hermione to the Great Hall where a mass of students were already seated at their house tables feasting on lunch. 

 

Hermione’s hunger from that morning which had disappeared in the shock of hearing about Ron’s accident, came back in full swing when she saw the plates of food in front of her, and she grabbed a sandwich first to eat. She was only concentrated on eating, and once she finished her sandwich, she reached for a raspberry muffin. When it was almost at her mouth, Harry nudged her arm, making her glare at him for making her almost drop her sweet. “What?” She asked.

 

Harry didn’t say anything, but nodded his head forward and Hermione looked. Draco had entered the Great Hall with Parkinson and Nott, and the three of them seemed to be in a conversation. Hermione didn’t feel bad for not thinking about Draco all day, as she did have the issue of thinking her best friend was on his deathbed, but seeing him in the Hall for lunch on a Saturday was rather unusual.

 

“Do you think all three of them are up to something?” Harry asked and picked up his goblet of pumpkin juice.

 

Hermione exhaled sharply and turned to look at him. “I don’t think  _ any _ of them are up to  _ anything _ ,” she said, hoping her tone wasn’t too harsh. She was so tired of having to defend Draco from Harry’s constant suspicions.

 

“Why not? They’re clearly up to something!”

 

“What, because they were talking? You talk to Ron and I when we come in the Hall. Ginny talks to Dean. Neville talks to Luna. We’re not all up to something,” she said and sighed in frustration and took a bite of her muffin. 

 

“Yes, but they’re all Slytherins--”

 

“So?” Hermione interrupted, and flushed when a few muffin crumbs fell from her mouth and landed on the table. She wiped them off angrily and then looked at Harry again. “Not every Slytherin is up to some dastardly deed, Harry.”

 

“Why are you defending them?” Harry narrowed his eyes.

 

“I’m just trying to  _ tell _ you that just because they’re in Slytherin, and you... _ we _ don’t happen to like them, doesn’t mean that they’re doing something. It especially doesn’t mean that he’s a  _ you-know _ ,” she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Slughorn’s in Slytherin, and he’s a nice enough man. The Greengrass sisters are in Slytherin and they’re not bad; the younger one is rather nice, actually--”

 

“Riddle was in Slytherin,” Harry interrupted her.

 

Hermione’s glare turned cold. “Harry. You know I love you, and I’m not saying this to be cruel, or against you or anything, but you _can’t_ compare Tom Riddle to Draco Malfoy.” Her blood pressure rose higher, and she could feel her heart thumping quicker as her anger grew. She wanted nothing more than to tell Harry and to make him understand how good of a person Draco was; how caring he was, and how nice he could be. Harry’s stare softened slightly as he looked at her, and he seemed to realise the drastic comparison he had made, and turned back to the table to put a piece of bacon on his fork. She sighed and closed her eyes for a few seconds to will herself to calm. The day had been full of so many changing emotions and moods that she wasn’t sure what to think anymore. “Let’s not bicker,” she said after silence between them. “Today of all days, especially.”

 

Harry didn’t reply, but nodded tersely as they came to an agreement.

 

* * *

 

 

The closer Hermione got to the Great Hall, the larger her sense of guilt grew. She  _ should _ be sitting outside the Infirmary with Harry and Ginny again, but instead she was heading to the sixth years’ Apparition lesson. After returning from lunch with the both of them, she had internally debated over and over if she should attend the lesson or instead wait outside of the hospital wing. Harry hadn’t been any help, and shrugged when she asked for his opinion and said he wouldn’t be going to the lesson anyway. Ginny said that she should go, as Ron had lots of people waiting around for him anyway. To be  _ completely _ sure of her decision, she had knocked on the Infirmary door until Madam Pomfrey opened it, looking rather annoyed, but assured her completely that Ron would not be waking up any time soon.

 

Reasoning that an unconscious Ron would have no idea if she was even waiting outside for him, let alone that she had left, made her decision to attend the lesson easier, but even still, she felt bad for going. She tried to reason with herself that in order to pass her Apparition test, she had to attend every lesson and listen to every instruction carefully. She wanted to pass her test on the first try, just like she planned to also pass her Muggle driving test on the first try when she returned home at the end of the school year. 

 

When she saw that no other student was waiting at the Hall, Hermione checked her watch and found herself to be just over ten minutes early to the lesson. She knew there was no point going anywhere else, so she walked into the Great Hall and perched on the bench of the table closest to the door. A few minutes passed and Professor Flitwick and Mister Twycross entered the Hall and politely asked her to step back as they charmed the large dining tables to either side of the room. She jumped in surprise when someone stood beside her with no warning, and nudged her arm. “Why do you have to scare me like that?” She hissed upon finding it was Draco.

 

He smirked and shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve got to have some fun in life,” he drawled. “Where were you this morning? I couldn’t find you in the Room or the library.”

 

She managed to ignore the smile that threatened to creep onto her face when he said he had been looking for her, and instead leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I’ve been at the Infirmary. Ron was poisoned this morning, from something in Slughorn’s mead. I’ll tell you abo--” She stopped talking instantly when the first few students entered the Great Hall, and she quickly walked to the front, closest to the Apparition Instructor.

 

As everyone got into the places they wanted to stand for the lesson, Hermione took a risky look back at Draco who was standing in the exact same spot she’d left him in. He didn’t look happy anymore, though. His face had gone white and he seemed to be staring at the ground rather intensely. She wondered what could have forced his mood to change so rapidly, but before she could even come up with one possible explanation, Twycross had announced the start of the lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	22. Cracked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Before Hermione had had chance to try and get Draco’s attention once the Apparition lesson ended, he had slipped by her and hustled out of the Great Hall. She scowled at his retreating figure and decided it was probably best that she head back up to the hospital wing anyway. She hadn’t properly visited Ron yet and knew that Harry and Ginny would still be there. 

 

Hermione followed the crowd of students leaving the Hall and broke off to head towards the hospital wing. The walk was quiet and lonely, as only a few students were mingling in the halls. She tried her best to push thoughts of Draco out of her head, but she couldn’t help but wonder why he had disappeared so quickly. When she approached the doors to the infirmary, she saw Harry and Ginny sitting outside again, along with Fred and George. 

 

“Hi,” she said, sitting down on the floor beside Harry. “Are Mister and Mrs Weasley still in with Ron?” 

 

Harry shook his head then let out a laugh. “No, they went to McGonagall’s office to talk, but they’ll be back. Lavender came though; she was furious that none of us had bothered to tell her Ron was in the hospital wing.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Is she still in there?” 

 

This time it was Ginny that answered. “Unfortunately. It’s been nearly forty-five minutes! It’s not as if he’s woken up yet.” 

 

Neither Fred nor George had said a word yet. Hermione couldn’t recall a time they had been so quiet. Guilt began to creep into her stomach as she realized she had spent the entire walk to the infirmary thinking about Draco, and not her best friend lying in a hospital bed. Just then they heard the soft click of a door, followed by loud sniffles. Hermione leaned forward to see Lavender coming out of the infirmary, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks glistening with her tears. She didn’t say a word to any of them as she bolted down the corridor. 

 

Ginny sighed. “You think when Ron recovers he’ll pluck up the courage and dump her?” 

 

_ We can only hope,  _ Hermione thought to herself. 

 

The five of them came to a silent agreement to head into the infirmary now that Lavender had left. As they entered, Hermione realized she felt out of place among Harry and the three Weasleys. It was no secret that she and Ron hadn’t really properly spoken in months and the wedge that had been driven into their friendship made her feel as though she shouldn’t be there. Neither of them had been proper friends to one another, and it made her wonder if Ron would be happy to see her at all. 

 

Ginny squeezed her shoulder and Hermione gave her a half-hearted smile. Fred and George sat down on either side of the bed, leaving room for the three of them. Ron was still sleeping, and other than his skin looking a shade lighter than it normally did, his outward appearance looked unharmed. 

 

“Harry,” Hermione said quietly. “You said that the mead Slughorn had was meant for Dumbledore.” 

 

His brows furrowed, and then his eyes widened and his lips bent into a frown when he understood what she was trying to convey. “That means someone’s tried to kill Dumbledore twice this year,” he said gravely, looking back at Ron. 

 

If she were being honest, she felt a little nauseous thinking about all of this. First the necklace, and now the mead. The Headmaster was quite lucky both presents had never been delivered, but the question still remained: who had made the attempts in the first place? 

 

Ginny was staring hard at Ron, as though if she concentrated enough he might wake up. George sat next to her with his hand on her back. After the unsettling realization, they sat in silence for a while. The mid-afternoon sun illuminated the hospital wing and gave Ron an almost ghostly glow. Madam Pomfrey returned at one point to check on him and pursed her lips at the sight of five guests sitting by one patient. Hermione had long since rested her head on Harry’s shoulder and completely zoned out while looking out the large windows, exposing the sunny grounds. The squeak of a door opening and familiar voices jerked her back to reality, to which she saw Mister and Mrs Weasley returning with Professor McGonagall following closely behind. 

 

Hermione stood to hug Mister and Mrs Weasley and bid hello to Professor McGonagall for the second time that day. Molly gave her a watery smile and patted her cheek. “It’s good to see you, dear.” 

 

Her heart swelled at the warm greeting from Mrs Weasley, as it meant Ron hadn’t indulged that their friendship had been rocky for months. The Weasley matriarch then turned to her three children and beckoned them towards her. “Come on,” she said. “Professor McGonagall has arranged for us to have a private dinner in the kitchens.” 

 

Neither of the three Weasleys protested their mother, much to Hermione’s surprise. The five of them headed for the doors of the infirmary, huddled close to one another. Professor McGonagall began to leave when there was the sound of wood scraping against stone and Harry’s voice calling out.

 

“Professor, wait!” he said urgently. 

 

The elder witch looked at him sternly, one eyebrow raised and her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t say anything, which Harry took as his cue to continue. 

 

“Professor Slughorn said that mead was meant for Professor Dumbledore,” he explained. “Don’t you see what this means, Professor? This is the second time someone has tried to...kill Dumbledore!” 

 

“I can assure you I am aware of the details of the situation, Mr. Potter,” she responded tersely. 

 

Hermione had jumped up to stand at Harry’s side. She tugged on his arm and gave him a warning look. Professor McGonagall had warned him about making serious accusations once before and she knew that she would not react kindly if he were to do it again.  _ Nor would I,  _ she thought bitterly. 

 

Harry sighed and let his hands fall limp at his sides. “Professor, I--”

 

“ _ I  _ have already heard your thoughts and insight to this situation, Potter,” She paused and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry Potter, truly I am, but let me assure you that precautions are in effect already and security will be tightened again.” 

 

Harry nodded in defeat and Hermione let out a sigh of relief for not having to intervene. Harry could get carried away and the last thing any of them needed was him shouting about how he thought Draco was a Death Eater. Aside from that being completely ludicrous, it was not an accusation to be made lightly. Professor McGonagall bade them goodbye and told them she expected to see them both at dinner. 

 

Hermione sighed, ready to lecture Harry on the subject when she heard mumbling, and then… “Probably means no more Hogsmeade trips, huh?” 

 

“Ron!” she and Harry exclaimed simultaneously. 

 

He was smiling at the both of them, albeit weakly. The two of them returned to his bedside and sat down in the chairs Fred and George had been sitting in. 

 

“How do you feel?” she asked. 

 

Ron shrugged. “Everything hurts. My legs are stiff.” 

 

They both let out a chuckle. “It’s good to see you’re awake, mate,” Harry said with a grin. 

 

“Yeah,” Ron said, though his voice sounded different. He smiled back at Harry before turning his head to face her, at which his expression turned solemn. “Hermione, erm…” he paused and his cheeks were slowly turning a bright red. “I reckon I’ve been a bit of a prat these past few months.” 

 

Hermione let out a snort of sorts and shook her head. “I wasn’t exactly pleasant either.” 

Harry fidgeted in his chair, gaining both of their attentions. “So is this… Are we all…” 

 

“Yes, Harry,” she said. “Everything is back to normal.” 

 

“Well, as normal as they can be when your best mate is Harry Potter,” Ron chuckled. 

 

All three of them had burst out laughing, she and Harry nearly doubling over in their chairs. As she wiped a stray tear from her eye, her heart swelled and it felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It all seemed so silly now; her frustration with Harry and Ron this year. Not they were innocent in their actions, and neither was she, but they had bigger things to worry about, didn’t they? They’d lost sight of what was most important, and almost losing Ron this morning forced them to remember. They had something worth fighting for. 

 

When their laughter subsided, Ron was distracted by the small mound of chocolates and sweets on his bedside table. He looked slightly disappointed, something Harry noticed immediately. “They didn’t really want to the news to spread around the castle. So...not a whole lot of people know,” he explained. 

 

“Maybe mum will bring something back from the kitchens,” Ron said hopefully before ripping the packaging off a chocolate frog and biting into it. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and offered a ‘ _ can you believe him? _ ’ look to Harry, who shook his head in return. The three of them chatted just like old times as Ron munched on his sweets until his parents returned, at which point Hermione and Harry bid them all good night and promised Ron they would pop in the next morning after breakfast. 

 

* * *

 

Despite the efforts to keep the news of Ron’s poisoning quiet, it had somehow leaked throughout the castle overnight. By Sunday morning, the Great Hall was filled with an anxious buzz and all eyes seemed to follow Hermione, Harry and Ginny as they made their way to the Gryffindor table. 

 

“That’s the second attack this year…” a burly Hufflepuff boy whispered as the three of them passed by. 

 

“I wonder who did it this time,” a Ravenclaw mused to her friend, who merely shrugged. “Do you think it’s connected to that Bell girl’s incident?” 

 

Hermione noticed the scowl on Ginny’s freckled features as they sat down and began piling food on their plate. Harry looked as though he wanted nothing more than to comfort Ginny, but he merely poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and offered the pitcher to Ginny. 

 

“At least I can avoid people’s questions today,” Ginny said somewhat optimistically, though she still looked quite sullen. “Maybe I’ll ask Dean if he wants to go down the Quidditch pitch today, fly around for a while.” 

 

Hermione gave the youngest Weasley a sympathetic smile and patted her hand. “I doubt people will badger you, Ginny. Everyone knows you cast a wicked bat-bogey hex. I think they’ll want to stay away from you.” 

 

Ginny barked out a laugh, throwing her head back. “True,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Still though, I could use an excuse to fly and clear my head.” 

 

Hermione smiled brightly at the witch and went back to her toast. She happened to glance over at Harry, who she saw looked miserable and was stuffing his breakfast in his mouth as fast as he could. Her heart sank slightly as she really did feel sorry for Harry. She knew how much he liked Ginny, and hearing her mention Dean must have felt like a stab in the heart. 

 

“Harry?” Ginny said. “Are you alright?” She was looking at Harry with concern, her head cocked to the side and her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth. 

 

“Hm?” he muttered in between bites. “Yeah, I just want to get up to the hospital wing before everyone leaves here.” 

 

_ I didn’t even think of that,  _ Hermione thought to herself. “That’s a good idea, Harry.” 

 

Ginny seemed to agree as she took two more bites of her eggs and let her fork fall onto her plate with a clatter. “I’m ready whenever you two are.” 

 

Hermione finished the piece of toast she was eating, and grabbed two bananas from the basket of fruit in the center of the table. Harry had nearly cleared his plate and the three of them began to get up when Harry said, “Wait. Should we bring some for Ron?” 

 

“As long as you don’t dare bring a banana. He hates those,” Ginny pointed out. 

 

Harry nodded and grabbed a clean plate. He piled on nearly an entire stack of toast, a large helping of eggs, plenty of sausages and some bacon. When Harry decided there was definitely enough for Ron, the three of them left the Gryffindor table, leaving the murmurs and stares behind. 

 

As they passed by the tables, Hermione snuck a look at the Slytherin table, only to find that Draco wasn’t anywhere along the long table. Her heart sank again and she hoped that wherever he was right now, he was alright.

 

* * *

 

Ron had very much appreciated the plate of food they brought him even though Madam Pomfrey had already brought him a tray of food just under an hour before they arrived. The four of them made small talk, and when Hermione told Ron she would bring him his class work at the end of every day, he wrinkled his nose but told her he appreciated it. When Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office around mid-morning to check on Ron, the four of them fell silent and let her work. 

 

The second she was gone, Ron looked at the three of them with a troubled expression. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen mum and dad look so worried.” 

 

Ginny looked over at Harry, who looked back at her grimly. The nauseousness she had felt yesterday was returning with a vengeance. They hadn’t talked about yesterday’s incident since they arrived and Hermione had hoped it would have stayed that way. 

 

It made sense that Ron’s parents were so worried, though. The Wizarding World had grown much darker and more dangerous since Voldemort’s return almost two years ago. Families were being murdered, people were disappearing without a trace, towns were being torn apart. Outside of Hogwarts, it was quite near chaos. Parents had been pulling their children from school all year. Though Ron had survived the poisoning, if Harry had taken just a few seconds longer to retrieve the bezoar, he would be dead. Molly and Arthur Weasley had every right to be worried about the safety of their children. 

 

“Mum tried convincing me to come back home with them,” Ginny piped up. “When we were down in the kitchen having dinner. I refused, of course.” 

 

“That explains why she looked so miserable after you all came back last night,” Ron muttered. 

 

“I don’t blame her,” Hermione interjected. When all three looked at her as though she had three heads, she sighed and began to explain. “I mean, other than Ron, you’re the only child that’s still at Hogwarts. I’m sure your mother worries over Bill, Charlie and Percy, but they can pop home more quickly than you could. Fred and George are close by. But you and Ron? She can’t control what happens here. At home, she could.” 

 

“Are you saying I should go home?” Ginny asked quite angrily. 

 

“ _ No _ ,” she said, exasperated. “Just...it makes sense. That’s all. I mean, two deathly objects have managed to make it onto Hogwarts grounds? No, the necklace never made it out of Hogsmeade, but the village has practically just as much security as the castle does. I imagine it’s quite frightening to parents.” 

 

Ginny grew quiet after Hermione’s response and an awkward air settled over them. Ron brought up Quidditch to Harry and the two began discussing who Harry might ask to replace Ron while he was out. Hermione took out a book from her bag and opened to where she had left off. It was the same book she had been reading that day that Draco had fallen asleep in their room. Ginny stood up rather abruptly and announced that she was going to find Dean. Harry stared at Ginny’s retreating back with a blank expression until she disappeared out the double doors. 

 

Hermione half-listened to Harry and Ron’s various conversations while she read, and yet somehow, her thoughts were still lingering on Draco. She hadn’t seen him since Apparition lessons yesterday, and she hadn’t forgotten the change in his mood when she mentioned Ron had been poisoned. With a glance at her watch, she saw there was still quite some time left until lunch time. If Harry stayed here, perhaps she could wander the castle and see if Draco was anywhere to be found. With plans set in her mind, she tucked her book back into her bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder as she stood up. 

 

“Harry are you staying with Ron for a while?” she asked, pausing at the foot of Ron’s bed. “I was going to head to the library.” 

 

The two looked at one another before Ron said, “I’ve got my set of Wizards Chess.” 

 

“Excellent,” Harry said as he scooted the chair closer to the bedside table. 

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she muttered to herself. “Bye, Ron. I’ll see you after dinner tonight?” 

 

Ron turned to look at her and nodded, a grin on his face. “See you then, Hermione.” 

 

And with that, Hermione turned on her heel and headed for the library, hoping with everything in her that Draco would be there. 

 

* * *

 

Draco was not in the library, nor out by the Black Lake, or anywhere among the hallways. He could have very well been in his common room for all she knew, but--

 

And that was when it hit her. She  _ could  _ know. She could find out exactly where Draco was. 

 

With a burst of energy, Hermione turned on her heel, away from the Grand Staircase and bolted for Gryffindor Tower. She was barreling up the steps two at a time as she had just spent a good hour or so wandering about and had no idea how long Harry was planning on staying with Ron. Just two more floors and she would nearly be there. If she could just get back to the common room before Harry did, then she could know…

 

By the time she reached the seventh floor, she had a stitch in her side and there was a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her face. She panted the password to the Fat Lady and clambered through the portrait hole. Luckily, Gryffindor common room was completely empty, yet not surprising as it was the first reasonably nice day outside in months. Hermione climbed the stairs to the boys dormitory as fast as she could and when she reached the top, she opened the door slowly and examined it to make sure it was empty too. When she saw all five beds were empty, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her. 

 

“Accio Marauder’s Map!” she said clearly, her wand steady in her hand. 

 

Harry’s trunk shot open and the map zoomed towards her. 

 

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” she whispered, tapping the parchment as she perched herself on the edge of Harry’s bed. 

 

_ I am up to no good,  _ she told herself.  _ I’m doing exactly what Harry does! Spying on Draco. _

 

She hadn’t looked at the map yet -- she hadn’t even tried to find his name yet -- but this was different. She cared about Draco. She wanted to make sure he was alright. Hell, she just wanted to spend a few hours with him in the library or talking by the fire in their room. 

 

_ That doesn’t mean you should go looking for him on the map.  _

 

Hermione sighed and stared down at the map she had yet to even unfold. She really shouldn’t. Draco was allowed to spend his free time however he pleased, and just because she couldn’t find him, didn’t mean she had track down his whereabouts through a map. Except there was a tiny part of her that knew he was not in his common room, and thought that he was pulling one of his disappearing acts again. 

 

Finally coming to a decision, she said, “Mischief Managed,” to the map, and stood up, tucked the map back into Harry’s trunk and shut it with a dull thud. She had no idea how long Draco would be gone for this time, but she would wait for him, just like she’d done every time before. 

 

* * *

 

As Hermione suspected, she didn’t see Draco for the remainder of her Sunday. After her little intrusion to Harry’s dormitory, she had gone to the library and completed her homework for the upcoming few days. She took some more notes on different wards and wrote down a few useful spells she had found while browsing. Harry and Ginny had shown up close to dinner time and helped her put away the books she had pulled over the past few hours. 

 

They had visited Ron after dinner, like they said they would, and if Draco was anywhere in the castle, she had no idea. After they left, she returned to the common room with Harry and Ginny and the three of them talked and talked until the fire was nothing but embers and their eyes were too heavy to keep open any longer. 

 

For the next two days, Draco was nowhere in sight. She must have glanced over at the Slytherin table at least twenty times during breakfast on Monday morning, and the only thing she had seen was Parkinson and Nott whispering to one another at the far end of the table. She had mulled over this sight all through her morning classes, wondering what the two of them could have been talking about. Logically, it could have been about anything. It wasn’t as though she knew the two Slytherins well at all, but she knew better. She knew they had been talking about Draco. His last disappearance was abrupt, and she highly doubted it was easily dismissed by his housemates. 

 

She went into double Arithmancy not expecting Draco to be there, and it was a good thing she hadn’t, as she spent the entire double lesson alone. It wasn’t until recently that his disappearances and lack of warning angered her, but this anger was different. She hadn’t told anyone, but Ron’s poisoning had shaken her. It had been horrible what happened to Katie, but Ron was her best friend. It had been so close to home, and all she wanted was to talk about it with Draco. She wanted to go to their room and just talk about all of this. She could only talk to Harry for so long about it before she could see he was holding back his accusations against Draco, and though Ginny was tough, this was something she didn’t want to discuss at such lengths with the younger witch. No. She wanted Draco. 

 

The rest of her Monday had been just as big of a disappointment as her morning. She had visited Ron in the hospital wing briefly after lunch before she retreated to the library to get some homework done. The only sounds that could be heard were the scratchings of her quill and the howling winds that rattled the large library windows. 

 

Hermione was thankful Professor Slughorn gave a lecture while they took notes in Potions, as it called for her full and undivided attention, but when left to brew for the second half of the lesson, her mind began to wander and she couldn’t help but stare at Draco’s empty seat. 

 

* * *

 

Tuesday passed quickly, with Draco nowhere to be seen. Now that the end of the school year was just a few months away, their homework and vigorous classwork was mounting to an all new difficulty and was becoming more time consuming than before. By Wednesday, she felt drained. She’d done nothing but practice the charms and spells they’d been learning in class, and writing the multitude of essays that were due in the coming week. The past few days were also the most time she’d spent with Harry and Ron in months. She had kept her promise of bringing Ron his classwork and had spent some time attempting to explain the more difficult concepts. 

 

She found Harry waiting for her in the common room, looking as tired as she felt, and together they set off for the Great Hall. Harry told her about Cormac McLaggen cornering him again in the common room about filling in as Keeper before she arrived, and how he, Harry, had yet again told him he wasn’t quite sure yet. 

 

Hermione sighed as they walked down the stone steps of the Grand Staircase. “Harry, Cormac is a git, but the Quidditch match is only three days away! Ron won’t be out by then.” 

 

It was true. Madam Pomfrey was insisting he stay the entire week, and she would evaluate his release this coming Sunday. Harry had been hoping for different news and had put off the task of finding a temporary replacement for Keeper, but time was dwindling and Harry would have to make his decision sooner rather than later. 

 

When they arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast, the first thing Hermione noticed was the familiar head of blonde hair bobbing through students to get to the Slytherin table. She nearly lost her balance as relief washed over her entire body, and it took every ounce of strength she had to keep her features calm. Harry steadied her and she mumbled about not sleeping very well last night, which wasn’t a lie. Since Ron’s poisoning, she’d endured nights of restless sleep where she would merely toss and turn for hours. 

 

All through breakfast she kept her eye on Draco and thanked Merlin that Harry’s back was to the Slytherin table, as he had sat opposite her. When the bell rang, Harry dashed from the table, eager to ignore McLaggen for a little while longer, leaving Hermione to gather her bag and dash off to double Arithmancy. 

 

She hadn’t seen Draco on her way to class and she grew worried that perhaps he wasn’t going to show, but just as she sat down at their table in the back, he arrived. A small gasp escaped her lips upon seeing his appearance. She hadn’t properly seen him at breakfast, only the back of his head, and seeing him now, she thought he might fall asleep any second. His eyes were slightly puffy and the dark rings around them were the darkest she had ever seen. His hair looked lifeless and his skin was dull. 

 

When he collapsed into the chair next to her, she had her questions ready but Draco held up a hand, not even looking at her. With his free hand, he dug his quill, inkpot and textbook out of his bag. “Please, Granger,” he said, his voice listless and void of emotion. “Not now.” 

 

Hermione snapped her mouth shut and tore off a spare piece of parchment before scribbling a note and passing the piece of parchment to him. 

 

_ Harry has Quidditch practice after lunch today. Meet me in our room?  _

 

Draco read her note, nodded and slid the parchment back to her. She stared at the parchment, feeling slightly hurt. He normally wrote something in return. Professor Vector had begun explaining the instructions for today’s lesson, so she resigned to slipping the parchment out of view and turned her attention to the front of the class. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione arrived at their room a few minutes after Draco had. When she stepped inside and immediately kicked her shoes off, she found that he was already on the couch, leaning over the coffee table and working on homework. Beside his school supplies sat a tray of biscuits and tea. Hermione didn’t say anything until she had settled in next to him, with her own homework sprawled out on the table in front of them. 

 

“So,” she said rather tersely. “Fancy talking about why you disappeared this time?” 

 

Draco shrugged, “Not really.” He paused in his writing to glance over at her, concern embedded in his features. “How’s Weasley?” 

 

She stammered for a moment, thrown off by his interest in Ron’s health. “Fine,” she said slowly. “Since when do you care about Ron?” 

 

“He’s your friend, Granger,” he said. “And don’t think I didn’t notice how worried you looked at the Apparition lesson. This is the first I’m seeing you, so I’m asking.” Hermione was listening, yes, but she also couldn’t help but notice the way he talked with his hands; waving them about and gesturing this way and that. 

 

“Thanks,” she muttered. “For asking about Ron. He’s getting better, by the way.” 

 

Draco nodded and returned to his homework. Hermione didn’t have any idea what to make of what just happened and forced herself to get started on her Ancient Runes essay. Much to her surprise, Draco stayed fairly quiet and not once did he stray from his task at hand. They both absent-mindedly munched on biscuits, and took turns making each a cup of tea, but not a word was spoken. 

 

When she glanced at her watch and saw that Quidditch practice was nearly over, she told Draco, and both of them began to pack away their books. Hermione was a bit annoyed with him at the moment, and all she offered him before leaving was a simple ‘see you’ in a clipped tone. 

 

* * *

 

Something was off about Draco since he returned the previous day. He seemed more distant than usual. He had given her a brief nod on his way to the Slytherin table Wednesday evening at dinner, which she had returned before looking away to make sure Harry hadn’t noticed. She never expected much during the classes they shared with their housemates, but he hadn’t looked her way once in Potions on Thursday morning. By the time Ancient Runes came around after break, she was practically furious. She was there for him any time he needed her, but the one time she needed him…

 

It just didn’t feel fair, and yet a part of her felt guilty for being angry with him. She knew how stressed he’d been, and whatever it was that had been taking up so much of his time had been taking its toll on him for months now. He had his own problems, she knew that, but hers mattered too. He needed someone, and so did she. 

 

Hermione spent her break with Harry in the library, mulling over what exactly she would say to Draco when she saw him in Ancient Runes. Harry had asked her quite a few times if she was alright and each time she told him she was fine and just worried about Ron or stressing about the homework she had to complete. Each time, he would nod slowly and stare at her for a moment longer, as if he were waiting for her to say more, but in the end he never pressed her. 

 

Even if he did, she wouldn’t have told him what was really on his mind. She couldn’t. 

 

* * *

 

_ I know something is wrong, Draco.  _ She scribbled on a piece of parchment during Ancient Runes.  _ You’re acting odd, and given the way you’ve been acting all year, that’s say something.  _

 

He’d kept her note in his possession for several minutes. His classwork lay forgotten next to the parchment in front of him, with the tip of his quill hovering over it. 

 

_ I know.  _ He wrote back, finally. Before she could write her response, he snatched the parchment back, scribbled something down hastily and slid it back to her. 

 

_ I promised Theo we’d work on our DADA essay today and practice our nonverbal spells, but meet me in the Room tomorrow?  _

 

_ When?  _ She wrote back. 

 

_ Potter’s holding one last Quidditch practice tomorrow evening, yes?  _ He’d written in response.  _ Around 6?  _

 

She hesitated for a moment, before jotting down her response and sliding the parchment back to him.  _ You’ll definitely be there?  _

 

_ I promise.  _

 

* * *

 

The sound of rain pounding against the windows of the girl’s dormitory woke Hermione far too early for her liking. It was the first night she had actually managed to fall asleep at a decent hour  _ and  _ she had a free period that morning. The last thing she wanted was to be woken by the latest storm strolling over Hogwarts, but alas, she  _ was  _ awake, as were Lavender and Parvati, who thought that it was an appropriate time for giggling and whatever it was they were discussing that had a smile plastered on both of their faces. 

 

She didn’t bother to hide her sigh of annoyance as she slipped out from under her covers and went into the bathroom to change. She thought she heard Lavender whisper something about her, but Hermione couldn’t have cared in the slightest. After throwing on a pair of jeans and a jumper, she grabbed her bag from beside her bed and took off for the Room of Requirement where she could hopefully sleep in peace. 

 

It always felt odd being in their room without Draco there with her, but on this dreary morning, she found the feeling of discontent easy to ignore as she lay down on the couch and pulled a blanket over her. She couldn’t hear the rain inside the room. Aside from the occasional cracking of wood in the fireplace, she was surrounded by silence, and for once, her mind was quiet; not yet whirling with thoughts of Draco or Ron or homework or anything at all. For the first time in what felt like weeks, she could just  _ sleep.  _

 

Hermione had no idea how long she lay there for, if it was five minutes or thirty, but the slamming of a door and a broken sob jolted her from the sleep she had been so close to grasping at the time. She groaned sleepily before blinking in the direction of the sound, and when she was finally able to open her eyes, the sight before her made her leap off the couch and toss the blanket carelessly to the floor. 

 

“Draco,” she said urgently, rushing to stand before him, her hands gripping tightly at his arms. 

 

He was leaning against the wall, his head tilted back, blinking rapidly as tears slipped down his hollowed cheeks. His entire body was shaking and he’d loosened his tie so it hung loosely around his neck and undone the first few buttons of his shirt, exposing the skin between his collarbones. 

 

“Talk to me,” she pleaded. “What is it?” 

 

Draco merely shook his head vigorously. The only word she could catch was  _ can’t,  _ which he was muttering repeatedly. Hermione licked her lips and inhaled sharply. “Draco, I don’t understand. Please, calm down and we can talk, okay? I’ll make you a cup of tea and--”

 

“I don’t want a cup of tea!” Draco shouted loudly, grasping handfuls of his hair. She watched the muscles in his jaw clench repeatedly and the lump in his throat bob as he continued to cry. Draco squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a shaky breath. “I’m just a kid,” he whispered to the ceiling, his voice cracking on the last word. 

 

“Draco, please,” she tried again. “You’re...You’re sort of scaring me.”

 

At this he let out a pained groan and kicked the wall with his foot. 

 

“Does this have to do with why you’ve been acting stranger than usual the past few days?” she asked, gripping his arms tightly so he couldn’t move away from her. 

 

He nodded. “Yes.” 

 

Her heart began to beat faster in her chest. They were getting somewhere, she thought. At least he was talking. “Okay,” she said. “Draco, what happened?” 

 

“I can’t keep doing this,” he practically wailed. She thought her heart was going to shatter into a million pieces. Never before had she seen him like this. She’d never seen anyone like this, not even Harry. “But my parents… Oh God, my parents.” 

 

He was beginning to shake uncontrollably again and the tears weren’t stopping. And then he looked at her. His grey eyes, dark as the storm clouds that raged on just outside the thick castle walls, met hers. All she saw was pain.

 

Pain...regret...defeat... _ fear.  _

 

“Draco,” Hermione whispered softly, one hand resting against his cheek now, brushing away his tears with the tips of her fingers. “You can tell me. I promise you, you can tell me.” 

 

He shook his head vigorously as the tears continued to trickle down his cheeks. He choked down a sob. His features looked tortured as he stood before her, his back to the wall. “I want to, Hermione,” he croaked desperately. 

 

Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened slightly at his use of her first name. She felt a warmth radiate from her fingers that lay upon his pale skin to the rest of her body. 

 

“But I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t.”

 

Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed briefly in disappointment, before they flickered back to his, her gaze steady. His breathing was becoming less ragged, less shallow, but the look on his face...she wanted to take it all away. She wanted to hold him and never let him go, but it wasn’t possible. She knew that. 

 

It took her a moment to realize just how close they were; their faces mere inches from one another. So close she could practically taste the saltiness of his tears. Hermione licked her lips and ever so slowly, she rose on her tiptoes, inched her head forwards and let her lips press lightly against his cheek, like a feather landing on a still body of water. 

 

His body stilled at her touch. She felt his breathing go shallow again as she began to pull away, but before she could rest on the soles of her feet, his arms slipped around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Hermione looked up at the broken boy in front of her and saw his head tilting down towards her, his lips slightly parted. 

 

Her hands cradled his face as she closed the distance between them, his lips finally greeting hers -- warm and soft and  _ everything  _ she had been imagining for months. Draco sighed into her as a shiver jolted down her spine. The same warmth she felt inside her whenever he smiled at her or touched her in the slightest was radiating from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, spreading like fire throughout her body. His fingers dug into the small of her back as she pressed her lips harder into his, both eager for more. 

 

Just when she had opened her lips a bit more, he was moving away. The cold air of the room began seeping between them. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drew in a shaky breath, her legs feeling like jelly and her heart still pounding in her chest. Draco cleared his throat and looked at anywhere but her. He’d stopped crying by now, but the evidence was still stained on his cheeks. 

 

“Sorry…” she mumbled breathlessly, for he hadn’t said anything since releasing her. 

 

“Don’t,” Draco said sharply, and she swore she saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. “Don’t apologize for that.” 

 

Hermione couldn’t help but let a soft giggle escaped her lips as she felt heat rush to her cheeks. “I basically shocked you back to your senses,” she said with a sly smile. 

 

He smirked, despite the pain she still saw in his eyes. “Remind me to never question your methods again.” 

 

* * *

 

The last thing Hermione expected to happen when she had woken up that morning was to  _ kiss  _ Draco Malfoy. She’d loved it, of course. Hell, she already wanted to kiss him again, but it wasn’t the right time. He had still been upset and a bit shaky after they broke apart, and she finally sat him down and made him a cup of tea (which he drank with much gratitude). They had talked a bit, and Hermione was relieved that there was no awkward air about them after what had happened. Which meant that Draco had  _ wanted  _ to kiss her too, and just the thought of that made her feel like she was about to implode with joy.

 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here, to be honest,” he admitted, holding the china cup between his hands. 

 

“I wasn’t expecting to come here,” she told him, nursing her own cup of tea in the hopes it would calm her down as well. “But the rain woke me up and my housemates are a bit obnoxious so…” 

 

Draco laughed, nearly spitting out his tea. “Gods, you should hear the way Theo snores. I have to cast a silencing charm around my bed every night just so he won’t keep me up.” 

 

Hermione smirked at this tidbit of information and decided if Theo Nott were to ever bug her, she had this to throw back at him. It wasn’t much, she knew that, but it was something at least. 

 

“I’ve missed you all week, you know,” Draco said quietly, knocking his knee into hers. “I’m sorry for not being there.” 

 

“I was pretty shaken after what happened to Ron,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I was hoping--”

 

Draco set down his teacup and took one of her hands in his, their fingers intertwining. He smiled at her and Hermione allowed her head to rest on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter,” she finished softly, staring down at their hands. “You’re here now.” 

 

* * *

 

Hermione had nearly been late for Transfiguration and had just sat down when the bell rang. Harry shot her a confused look but she waved her hand and dismissed his worries by telling him she’d been in the library. Professor McGonagall began to explain they would be starting a new chapter today and instructed them to open to page four hundred and sixty-two of their textbook. As Hermione did so, she brushed a finger over her lips and smiled to herself. 

 

It was a shame, really, that their first kiss had happened on the only day where they shared one class together. She had to spend the entire day replaying it in her head and only caught glimpses of his blonde hair at meal times, and of course, because she was looking forward to their Potions lesson at the end of the day, every minute ticked by slowly. Never before did Hermione have to try so hard to concentrate on her lessons. Never before had she been distracted by someone to this extent. 

 

Potions came and Slughorn set them to work straight away. Hermione sat with Harry as she usually did, though only so it wouldn’t raise suspicion in Harry if she had suddenly decided to sit at the front again. Even though it meant she couldn’t exchange small glances with Draco. 

 

Much to her dismay, Harry had told her on their way to Potions that he had cancelled the Quidditch practice for that evening. 

 

“I’d rather my team get a good night’s rest,” he’d told her. 

 

With that, when Potions came to an end, Hermione stalled in packing up her belongings and told Harry she had to speak with Slughorn about a question she had for him regarding their most recent essay. Her best friend had rolled his eyes and told her he would see her in the common room. Luckily, Draco had noticed her slow movements and he too, began to slowly stuff his books back into his bag and clean up his station. 

 

Only when Ernie Macmillan had slipped out of the doors, did Draco approach her, a smile on his face. 

 

“Harry’s cancelled practice,” she told him flatly. 

 

Draco sighed and his face fell. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the stone wall of the dungeon. “Fan-bloody-tastic.”

 

“There’s a game tomorrow though!” she said brightly, remembering why he had cancelled the practice in the first place. “We could get together then--”

 

But Draco shook his head and shot her an apologetic look. “I--I can’t. I’ve got plans already and--I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

 

Hermione tried her best to smile and nod and tell him it was no big deal, because  _ it wasn’t.  _ They had only kissed. It wasn’t if they were dating or anything. She had no reason to expect him to break plans he’d already made. “Right, of course. So I’ll… I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

 

“Yeah,” he replied with a sad smile before she disappeared out of the dungeon doors. 

 

* * *

 

Her Friday night had been quiet and not anything close to what she would have  _ liked  _ to happen, but it had been nice to see Ron and have a few laughs with him, Harry and Ginny. She’d gone to bed feeling completely exhausted and found herself feeling very grateful that tomorrow was Saturday and she had nothing to wake up for. 

 

As she did before every Quidditch match, she went with Harry down to breakfast and tried to reassure him it would all be alright. This time though, her words were hardly a comfort, and she couldn’t even blame him for being worried. Katie had been gone for months, Ron was out, and while Dean was at least both a good player and team member, Cormac was like a living hell. 

 

“You guys will do great, Harry,” Hermione insisted. “I know you’ll win.” But even Ginny didn’t look so sure as she stabbed at the last bits of egg on her plate. 

 

After breakfast, Hermione retreated to the library. She sorted out all of her notes, her textbooks and her partially completed homework and sighed at the heavy workload before her. 

 

“Cheers to a Saturday afternoon alone,” she mumbled, glancing at the empty seat across from her that Draco normally occupied when he accompanied her. 

 

* * *

 

“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked a rough looking Harry, who was currently lying in the bed next to Ron in the hospital wing. 

 

It was Sunday morning, and it was the first time Hermione had visited Harry since he had regained consciousness sometime yesterday evening. 

 

“My head feels like a ton of bricks,” he replied dryly. 

 

“I can imagine,” she said soothingly. “Sorry you lost the match,” she added after a moment of a silence between the three of them. 

 

Harry shrugged, still looking furious. Harry looked as though he were about to speak again, when Ron chimed in, “Blimey, Harry, have you forgotten already? Tell her!” 

 

Hermione glanced at the pair of them suspiciously. “Tell me what?” 

 

Harry’s face seemed to light up like a Christmas tree at Ron’s words. “Oh yeah! Hermione listen to this--” 

 

At that, Harry launched into the tale of what he saw on his way to the pitch yesterday; about Draco and the way he had brushed Harry off. Hermione shot him a reproachful look, as he knew full and well how she felt about this theory of this, but it didn’t stop him. 

 

“So anyway, I’m lying here last night wishing there was a way I could know what Malfoy was up to at all times and that’s when it came to me!” he told her, clearly proud and satisfied with him. 

 

“That’s when...what came to you, Harry?” she asked, panic rising inside her. 

 

Harry looked around the empty hospital wing and only when he was sure Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t poke her head out to check on them, he sat up as much as he could muster and whispered, “I’ve asked Kreacher and Dobby to keep tabs on Malfoy. Follow him around, see where he goes… What he’s up to.” 

 

Harry was smiling widely, like he thought his plan was absolutely brilliant. Ron mustered a supportive smile but shot Hermione a worried look. Hermione, however, felt as though all the air had just left the room. 

 

_ No,   _ she thought.  _ Anything but this.  _

  
  
  



	23. Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24! She's posting on ff.net so check it out on there!

Hermione had stayed glued to a chair between the hospital beds that Harry and Ron were laying on, for the remainder of Sunday morning and afternoon. Harry’s announcement that he had sent Kreacher and Dobby on a mission to  _ stalk _ Draco to find out what he was doing, increased Hermione’s desire to find Draco as soon as possible and to tell him to act discrete. Regardless of whether Draco was up to anything bad or not, Hermione wanted to let him know that he was being followed by two creatures who would try their very hardest to tail him at every opportunity to report back to Harry.

 

She didn’t dare move from her chair the entire day. There was no way she could warn Draco now without one of the elves seeing her approach him, and she absolutely did  _ not _ want Harry finding out about her and Draco’s friendship in that way. The day passed by slowly, and she, Harry and Ron spoke for most of it. It was like old times (apart from the fact both boys were bound to their hospital beds), and Hermione couldn’t believe they’d gone so long without properly talking as they used to. Whenever they would drift into talking about Quidditch, Hermione would turn her attention to the book on protective enchantments that she had brought to the infirmary. She would occasionally share information she learnt, but mostly kept to herself during her reading time, letting Ron and Harry properly rest without the intruding thoughts of knowing they would soon be in a situation where protective enchantments would be  _ needed _ .

 

Dinner time came and went, but Hermione didn’t go to the Great Hall, and instead ate what Madam Pomfrey had brought in for herself, Harry and Ron. As the three of them ate in silence, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from wandering to Draco. She hoped that he was sitting in the Great Hall with his housemates, and not off doing something suspicious that the elves could report back on to Harry. Ron was the one who noticed that she’d stopped eating, and asked her if she was okay. She shrugged it off and said she was simply tired, and decided to head back to the Gryffindor Tower after bidding Harry and Ron goodbye. When she reached the Fat Lady’s portrait, she stopped and looked down the hallway; the way to the Room of Requirement. She bit her lip as she thought, debating with herself over whether she should try her luck and see if Draco was in their Room or not.  _ No _ , she thought strictly and mumbled the password to the Fat Lady and entered the common room. She couldn’t risk the elves seeing her enter if they had already seen Draco disappear there, she would not risk their friendship like that.

 

* * *

 

After coming down the stairs to the common room in the morning, Hermione was not expecting Harry and Ron to be waiting with smug smiles on their faces. “You’re out of the infirmary!” She exclaimed with a grin and stood in front of them.

 

“No trace of poison in my system anymore,” Ron grinned, “I tried to convince Madam Pomfrey to fix Harry’s hero-complex while she was working on his head, but she wouldn’t have had enough time,” he joked.

 

Hermione laughed loudly and Harry rolled his eyes and elbowed Ron in the side. “Shut up, you arsehole. I saved your life,” he grinned.

 

Hermione couldn’t keep the smile off her face, seeing Harry and Ron back to normal, knowing that they could joke around as they used to. “Come on,” she shook her head with a smile, “We’ll be late for breakfast.” She led the way out of the common room, falling into step with Ron and Harry as they walked down the corridor and the two boys began to talk about how Harry would be telling Cormac he was off the team now that Ron was better. “Ginny and Dean had a row over Cormac, you know,” she mentioned as they walked, and her eyes flitted to the stretch of wall that the Room of Requirement was behind.

 

“They did? What about?” Harry asked, and all three of them had to stop suddenly when a small girl dropped some brass scales she was holding.

 

“It’s alright,” Hermione assured the younger student after hearing her give a squeak of surprise. “Reparo,” she said and pointed her wand to the broken scales on the floor and saw the parts come together again.

 

Ron looked over his shoulder as they walked away. “Surely we weren’t that small when we were first years...”

 

“That doesn’t matter,” Harry brushed off and looked at Hermione. “What did Ginny and Dean fight about?”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes before looking back at him. She was glad for Harry’s sake that Ron was just as oblivious as Harry was obvious. “Dean was laughing about Cormac hitting you with the bludger and Ginny stuck up for you and said Cormac was just a danger to himself and the rest of humankind.” She had heard the fight when she passed through the common room the night before after coming back from the infirmary, and was glad that the youngest Weasley had stuck up for Harry.

 

“I would have laughed too if I saw it,” Ron admitted.

 

“Ron!” Hermione furrowed her brows, whereas Harry had a smile on his face and absentmindedly breathed a laugh at Ron. “Harry could have been seriously injured if he wasn’t caught by Coote and Peakes!”

 

“Are Ginny and Dean still dating?” Harry asked, causing Hermione to stumble over her words slightly at the sudden change of subject.

 

“Yes, I think so,” she nodded. “She-- Oh, hello, Luna,” she stopped talking to Harry when the blonde skipped up to them and fell into step beside Harry.

 

Luna smiled at them all and then gave Harry a piece of parchment. “I went to the infirmary to find you, but you’d left by the time I got there,” she spoke. “I was told to give this to you.”

 

“Thanks,” Harry said and unrolled the parchment. Hermione and Ron watched on, and Ron took the parchment when it was offered to him. Hermione peered over and saw that it was a note inviting Harry to Dumbledore’s office that night for his next lesson. 

 

“I should be off. I need to show Neville the Gurdyroot my dad just sent me. I’m rather excited to see what he thinks of it,” Luna smiled and then left without another word, skipping in front of them down the hall. 

 

Hermione was rather taken aback, but Ron laughed. “You know, she’s growing on me, I think. Bloody weird, but she’s growing on me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast snapped Hermione out of the complacent mood she’d been in all morning. She noticed that Draco was visibly absent from the Slytherin table and hoped that he was still in his common room, or sleeping in. Her worry over where he was caused her hunger to dissipate, and after having a slice of toast she said farewell to Harry and Ron so she could get to Ancient Runes early. As she climbed the stairs, she wondered if Draco would be waiting outside of the classroom as he sometimes did when he didn’t attend breakfast, but then quickly realised that if he was standing outside, Dobby and Kreacher would be watching too. Her stomach dropped, knowing that if he was waiting she would have to do something to make sure he didn’t speak to her. The elves could  _ not _ see that they interacted and she knew that if he was there, she would have to wait until they were in the classroom before she could safely write him a note and tell him what was happening.

 

She was out of breath by the time she reached the classroom, and she couldn’t place whether she was excited or relieved that Draco was nowhere to be seen. She leaned back against the wall, dropping her bag gently onto the floor beside her, and caught her breath. She wished that Harry had never come up with the idea to have the house-elves chase after Draco, and felt a surge of anger towards her best friend; a feeling she had tried to keep at bay since finding out his plan.

 

The sound of footsteps made Hermione look up, and she froze when she saw Draco walking down the hallway towards her. He didn’t look as terrible as he had the week before, and seemed as if he’d had at least a decent amount of sleep which had been so desperately needed. She knew that she needed to act fast to make sure Draco didn’t display any friendliness to her. “What are you staring at, Malfoy?” She snapped when he drew closer, and she watched as his step faltered slightly and his brows furrowed.

 

“What?” He questioned, walking closer.

 

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek then stepped away, moving to the other side of the door. “I’m not in the mood to deal with you, Malfoy. Keep your comments to yourself,” she said harshly, trying to push away the surge of guilt she felt with every cruel comment she made. She saw his expression fall before he built up the wall that she had come to know. His jaw set hard and he leaned against the wall, glaring at the floor.

 

_ It’s for his own good _ , she convinced herself.  _ He’ll find out why in a few minutes… Just a few. _

 

The time it took for the bell to ring dragged on for much longer than usual, and she made a point to push past Draco to get into the classroom first. She was positive that the elves wouldn’t follow him inside, because even they knew that there was no trouble Draco could get up to in a classroom filled with other students and a Professor. She headed to their normal table, but stopped when she couldn’t hear Draco behind her. She turned and saw him going to sit at another desk, so she quickly grabbed his jumper and pulled until he walked with her to their normal table.

 

She sat quickly and pulled out her things as fast as she could, grabbing her quill and the first piece of parchment that she could find.

 

_ Harry’s using two house elves to follow you around _ , she wrote quickly, her words scrawled messily on the paper, but she knew he was watching.  _ I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to achieve, but we can’t be seen with each other until he calls them off. I’ll try and make him stop the elves, but please don’t do anything that would make him suspicious of you. _

 

When she dropped her quill and looked at him, all she saw was pure anger on his face. She didn’t blame him in the slightest; if she knew someone was sending  _ elves  _ to spy on her, she wouldn’t be happy about it either.

 

Before there was any chance for him to respond to the new information, Professor Babbling asked everyone to sit on different desks so she could issue them a quick test. Hermione grabbed her quill to move to the next table, but before she stood up, she quickly reached over to Draco and put her hand on his which rest on his knee under the table, and gave it a quick squeeze. “We’ll figure it out,” she whispered before having to stand up and move.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione had thought that meeting with Draco while Harry was constantly checking his Map was difficult.  _ Merlin _ was she wrong. Having the elves tailing Draco wherever he went made it impossible for her to even look at him for longer than a second outside of their classrooms and the longer they had to avoid each other, the worse her mood became.

 

If they passed each other in the hallways by chance, Draco would throw a cruel comment at her with which she responded to with a glare and her own heated words, often with the backup of Harry and Ron who she had started walking with to most of their classes, a stark difference to how she got around the castle normally: by herself. 

 

Draco attended every lesson of the day, and on the odd occasion where they would both be outside their classroom by themselves, they would make sure to ignore each other, or pretend to fight, so that Dobby and Kreacher would see that they were nothing more than enemies. Hermione hated it with a passion. She knew that their comments to each other didn’t mean anything, and what helped her confirm that in her mind was the way that Draco’s expression lacked the malice that he had always shown to her before their sixth year. It didn’t make snapping at him willingly any easier, nor did it make hearing his comments any better, as she knew that if they weren’t friends, this would be normal behaviour between them.

 

Their cruel facade always came to an end when they were in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy and could sit with each other without the threat of the elves having followed them into the classroom. By the end of each lesson, they normally had a page or two of parchment full of their scribbled writing; their form of communication now that they couldn’t speak freely anywhere else.

 

_ I miss our Room _ , she had written to him on Wednesday during their Arithmancy double period.

 

_ So do I _ , he wrote back after gently taking her quill from her fingers.

 

She had noticed more and more that whenever he would do so, their fingers would brush, sometimes for longer than a second, sometimes shorter, but there was not a lack of physical contact between them, that was for sure. The first few times it had happened and Hermione had noticed the consistency, her cheeks had flushed red. As it kept happening during their different classes and as the days passed, she started to be a little more careless when taking her quill back from him, and her fingers would graze across his more than it would in any other circumstance.

 

Hermione so desperately wished they could go to their Room as they normally did. It had been a cruel twist of fate that the very next day after they had shared a kiss, they had been forced to separate and communicate only through ink on paper. She didn’t want to talk about the kiss, necessarily, as it was still something she was slightly embarrassed about, but she did want to just  _ talk  _ like they normally did. She’d only ever kissed a handful of times before, in her life, and that was with Viktor, and whilst they were as awkward as first kisses could be, at least she had the benefit of actually being able to speak to him afterwards and come to understand things and figure things out. She didn’t have that novelty with Draco.

 

Sometimes when she found herself thinking of the kiss, she worried herself into thinking that it would be forgotten between the both of them, and it would fade into being nothing of importance. Hermione wasn’t desperate for anything to happen between her and Draco, and truly didn’t expect anything further because of it, she just didn’t want it to become a passing memory that was never spoken of again. She didn’t want to be the type of person that caught up in that sort of thing, especially due to the other issues occurring in her life, like upcoming exam preparation, schoolwork in general, helping Harry with his tasks from Dumbledore, the upcoming threat of a change in the Wizarding World… But there she was, staying awake at night thinking about kissing Draco  _ again _ just to know what it would feel like out of a situation that wasn’t so highly charged with different emotions. She didn’t regret what happened, and hoped that Draco didn’t either.

 

When the weekend rolled around, Hermione found herself being excited to simply do nothing. She woke late on Saturday, and after breakfast, spent the morning and most of the early afternoon outside with Ron and Harry while they played Wizarding Chess and chatted, and she read something that  _ wasn’t _ a textbook. The rest of the day was uneventful, rolling into Sunday where Hermione knew she needed to start working on some homework to keep up to date.

 

Knowing there was no point of trying to go to the library to see if Draco was there too and if they could work together, she spent the day in the common room at the table by the window, working away on her essays and notes and catching up on some chapters that needed to be read. Without the stress of having to rush her homework, as it wasn’t due until a week later, sitting at the table was quite enjoyable. She even had to admit that when Harry and Ron appeared sometime after lunchtime with a plate of different biscuits and sandwiches to share, the brief break with her two friends was great and almost made her forget that if things were different, she would probably be doing the same with Draco in their Room.

 

The rest of Sunday was spent with Harry and Ron, and they sat with Ginny and Neville at dinner time, chatting about a variety of different things. It felt good to do so, and it was only when they were all eating dessert that a stab of guilt hit her upon realising she hadn’t glanced at the Slytherin table once, and that when she did, Draco was nowhere to be seen.

 

The thought of Draco’s absence stayed with Hermione during the entire walk back to the seventh floor with Harry and Ron. She reasoned with herself that he must have just left early, and that he wouldn’t possibly be doing anything that could get him into trouble from the elves seeing what he was doing. Trying to push all those thoughts out of her mind, she stepped through the Fat Lady’s portrait after speaking the password. Upon entering the common room, it was clear to notice the group of students surrounding the noticeboard. “What’s going on?” Ron asked.

 

“No idea,” Harry shrugged, and Hermione hung back as they both walked up to the board to check what everyone else was looking at.

 

“What was it?” She asked when they both returned to her, and she noticed that Ron looked a little paler than usual.

 

“The date for the first Apparition test,” Harry answered when Ron walked passed to a free table near the window. “Twenty first of April,” he added before Hermione could ask.

 

Hermione smiled at the knowledge. “Well that’s exciting! Oh, but you won’t be able to take it, will you?” Her smile faltered.

 

“Nope,” Harry shook his head and sat down next to Ron at the table and Hermione sat opposite. “Can only do the test if you’re seventeen before the date.”

 

“Yeah, well you’ve already apparated before,” Ron commented, rather bitterly, and opened up his Defence Against the Dark Arts book. “You’ll have no trouble when it comes to your test.”

 

“Just once though,” Harry said.

 

“You’ll get there, Ron,” Hermione assured him. “We’ve still got another lesson, yet. I’m sure you’ll be able to do it then.” Ron made a sort of grunting noise which made Hermione roll her eyes, but she let him get on with his essay that needed to be finished before the next morning.

 

She and Harry fell into conversation about how Harry was going to try and get Professor Slughorn’s memory that Dumbledore was still asking for. While Harry was convinced there was a spell or potion that could help him along, Hermione had to repeatedly remind him that there wouldn’t be a thing other than Veritaserum, which Professor Dumbledore had already said wouldn’t work. She was getting rather tired of Harry’s lack of enthusiasm in getting the memory from their Potions’ teacher and his defensiveness whenever she brought it up.

 

When their conversation began to grow rather heated as Harry persistently told her that he was trying as hard as he could, Ron intervened at the perfect moment, asking Hermione if she could check his essay. She sighed and pursed her lips slightly, but agreed. She knew that the last thing Ron needed was the threat of Snape humiliating him if his essay was any less than average, since he was already so strung up about his failure to apparate.

 

The more Hermione had to change in Ron’s essay, the more confused she got. “Ron, the word ‘belligerent’ doesn’t start with B-U-M…” She said and ignored Harry’s snort of laughter.

 

“Huh?” Ron asked, just as confused himself.

 

“And ‘augury’ doesn’t begin with O-R-G either.” She picked up on the next misspelled word and kicked Harry’s shin under the table when he didn’t bother to smother his laugh with a snort.

 

“My quill must not be working anymore,” Ron said, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth due to Harry laughing, “It’s one of Fred and George’s Spell-Checking ones.”

 

Hermione pursed her lips, trying to show her disapproval for the twins’ products, but secretly was just trying not to laugh herself at the thought of how Snape would have reacted had he read the word in Ron’s essay that the quill had changed ‘augury’ to. “I think it’s time for you to get a new quill then, Ron,” she said, “Because your name isn’t Roonil Wazlib either.”

 

Harry burst out laughing, his head tipping backwards, and Hermione’s lips curled upwards and she pretended to scratch her cheek to cover her mouth as Ron swore and grabbed his essay back, but was laughing just as loudly as Harry.

 

* * *

 

By the time Hermione had helped Ron fix his essay and finish its conclusion, they were the only people left in the common room. Harry had given up on reading the book on protective enchantments that she’d handed him, and Ron was leaning back lazily in his chair, staring at the fire. All three of them almost had a heartattack when a sharp crack filled the common room, and before them on the table, stood Kreacher and Dobby.

 

The only emotion following the arrival of the elves, was shock. Shock of the both of them appearing so suddenly, of seeing all the knitted hats she had made on top of Dobby’s head, and then finding out what Draco had been doing during his disappearing acts. Going to the Room of Requirement. She couldn’t showcase her worry or confusion, and simply stayed quiet while Harry continued to ask questions of the elves, and Ron would occasionally pitch in too.

 

She couldn’t believe that Draco had been going to the Room of Requirement, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense to her. Everytime he had disappeared from the Map, he’d been in the Room, and she recalled all of the times she had tried to find him in the Room but been unsuccessful in getting in due to there always being a younger student hanging around that area… Harry was quick to realise that Draco had been making Crabbe and Goyle use Polyjuice Potion to be lookouts. She didn’t want to believe at all that Draco was doing anything bad in the Room of Requirement. She remembered back to the night she’d run into him during her rounds, and he’d came from the corridor where the Room was, visibly having been crying. He couldn’t have been doing anything bad if he was that upset leaving. Maybe he had been going to the Room for solace?

 

_ He’s not doing anything bad _ , she repeated to herself in her mind.  _ He isn’t a bad person. He would tell me if he was in trouble… He would. _

 

She had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at Harry as he continued to make wild assumptions, and thank Kreacher and Dobby for their work before they were dismissed and disapparated away.

 

“This is brilliant. I’m going to go to the Room between classes tomorrow and get in,” Harry said with a smug grin.

 

“You won’t be able to get in,” Hermione said before she could stop herself.

 

“Why not? Malfoy and his stupid Squad last year got into the DA room,” Ron argued.

 

“No,” Hermione snapped. “They could only get in because Marietta told Umbridge where we were going.”

 

“Oh,” Harry sighed and furrowed his brows. “I’ll figure it out.”

 

Hermione stared at the both of them then dropped her eyes. “I’m going to bed,” she announced and stood up to gather her things from the table. “Don’t stay up too late  _ plotting _ ,” she told them both and once her things were in her bed, she went upstairs to her dormitory.

 

* * *

 

Hermione could hardly fall asleep because of the anticipation she felt to tell Draco in the morning that the elves weren’t following him anymore and they could go back to normal in meeting up with each other outside of their classes. She rushed down to the Great Hall once she was dressed and ready for the day, and her eyes immediately went to the Slytherin table to try and find him. He wasn’t seated anywhere on the table, but she convinced herself that he would come in later, or would arrive to Ancient Runes and skip breakfast completely.

 

With that thought in mind, she ate her porridge quickly and passed Ron and Harry who entered the Hall just as she left, and said good morning to them before rushing up the stairs. There was no one outside of the classroom when she reached it though, and as more of her classmates started to arrive and there was still no sign of Draco, she started to lose hope. She quietly said good morning to Professor Babbling as she entered the classroom when the door was opened, and headed to her usual table and sat down to take her things out. Class began, and Hermione tried to stay focused on her work, but ended up being unable to resist the temptation to look at the door every few minutes.

 

It was only when she was stuck on a particularly hard translation that she devoted her full attention to her work. Her concentration was broken immediately though when the door opened up. “Mister Malfoy,” Professor Babbling greeted him. “Take your seat, I’ll speak to you after class.”

 

Hermione’s lips were parted as she watched Draco nod and then close the classroom door before making his way to sit beside her. The rest of the class were looking back at their work, resuming their concentration, but not Hermione. She smiled when Draco sat down beside her and began to take his things out. “I didn’t think you’d come,” she whispered quietly as the sounds of him taking out his things would disguise that she spoke.

 

“Neither did I,” he whispered back. When his books, parchment and quill were on the table, the both of them fell silent, and Hermione picked up a spare piece of parchment from her stack, and began to write.

 

_ The elves aren’t following you anymore. They came to Harry last night, Ron and I were there too, and they said that you’ve been going to the Room of Requirement and having people keep guard. _

 

She paused in her writing and glanced up at his face and like she could have guessed, he looked angry upon seeing his secret activities had been discovered.

 

_ Harry knows its Crabbe and Goyle keeping watch. But the elves have stopped, and that means we can spend time together again. _

 

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip as she watched Draco read what she had written, several times it seemed. It seemed like a lifetime before he reached out and took the quill from her fingers, and she bit on the inside of her cheek when his fingers brushed against hers.

 

_ I’m glad the elves are gone.  _

 

He placed the quill back down on the table and Hermione glared and picked it up.

 

_ That’s all? One sentence? Can you come to our Room at lunch? _

 

The corner of his lips quirked up when he read what she wrote and his hand came back over to take the quill from her. Was he purposely trying to touch as much of her fingers as possible?!

 

_ Thought you’d never ask _ , he wrote, and it was Hermione’s turn to smile.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sorry I’m late,” Hermione panted when she shut the heavy door behind her and walked to the couch which Draco was sitting on. “I think we have a few things to talk about…” She said when after some silence, Draco still hadn’t spoken.

 

“We do,” he nodded.

 

Hermione paused, giving him the opportunity to say something first if he wanted to, but when his mouth stayed firmly shut, she took the first step. “Draco…” She began, her voice quiet as she was hesitant to ask the main question that had been circulating in her mind since finding out Draco had been disappearing to the Room of Requirement. “Why do you keep coming here when you disappear?” She asked.

 

She could tell just by his demeanor that he was reluctant to answer. She didn’t push, because she knew from experience that when she pushed him for answers, he shut himself off completely. They were past the point where him shutting himself off could be excused. “I don’t come here,” he answered after some time. “Not this room in particular.”

 

“Then where?” Hermione asked and lifted her legs up onto the couch and turned so she was fully facing him. “And why do you need Crabbe and Goyle outside?”

 

Draco exhaled harshly through his nose and his elbows came to rest on his knees. “I…” He began and gritted his teeth before tearing his fingers through his hair. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he cursed under his breath. “I just need to go to the room and Crabbe and Goyle keep watch to tell me when not to come out.”

 

Hermione wasn’t stupid, and knew that he had clearly answered her question without _ truly  _ giving her any proper answers. “What do you do in there?” She asked more specifically. “What do you need to do that means you need lookouts? Look, I know that you know how that looks--”

 

“What are you trying to say?” Draco snapped, lifting his head from his hands to glare at her. “What are you trying to insinuate here, Granger, go on. Spit it out!”

 

Hermione’s shoulders tensed and she sent him back a glare that matched in intensity. “Don’t yell at me when you cut me off from finishing!” She snapped back. “You know how that looks to  _ other _ people,” she finished snippily. “To Harry, mainly, which is who you should be worrying about. He’s assuming too many things about you --  _ bad _ things -- and you buggering off for days at a time isn’t doing  _ anything _ to help!” She yelled, knowing that she was probably being insensitive and a little too harsh on him, but Merlin help her, she was frustrated!

 

“And what is he assuming?” Draco shouted back, standing from the couch, and Hermione immediately stood up too. He would  _ not  _ even get the chance to try and shout down at her.

 

“You know exactly what he assumes!” She yelled, the loudest either of them had been, and it made Draco’s mouth snap shut. She stared at him, ignoring the creeping guilt that wanted to settle in her stomach. Draco needed to know this, for his safety, and for his sanity.  _ There’s no way Harry can be right _ , she thought to herself, and it was for that reason she had to make Draco understand he couldn’t be acting the way he was. “Please… Just stop disappearing,” she said softly, not wanting to yell at him. After all, no-one would willingly want to fight, would they?

 

Draco’s shoulders sagged and he shook his head. “I can’t,” he said.

 

“ _ Yes _ , you can,” she said firmly and stepped forward. “Just stay. Don’t do what you’ve been doing. Or tell me what it is and I can help you. I promise I’ll help.”

 

“You can’t,” he said, looking her in the eyes for once. “I’m not letting you get involved.”

 

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” Hermione said rhetorically. “I’m already involved, Draco. A lot more than the both of us expected. Whatever it is you’re doing is killing you. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t see how you look when you come back from your disappearances. You hardly eat, hardly sleep, you’re pushing your housemates away…” She listed.

 

“I’m telling you that you can’t get involved in what I do,” he repeated.

 

“Then what is this?” She gestured between them with her hand. “You can’t pretend that we’re not friends. Draco, we… We bloody kissed, didn’t we? There’s no way I can’t be involved in what you’re doing now,” she said, her cheeks flushed red as it was the first time either of them had addressed the tender kiss they’d shared the week before.

 

“It was a moment of weakness for me,” he spoke, his voice weak and shaky, and she noticed that he wasn’t looking her in the eye.

 

“Everyone’s allowed to cry, Draco. It doesn’t make you weak,” she said, not wanting to address the fact that he had practically disregarded their kiss. “I’ve cried in front of you before, and I’ve seen you emotional before. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make me see you any differently, just how you seeing me cry doesn’t change me into a different person in your eyes.”

 

She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard. She knew that she was getting him to think, and to think hard. It wouldn’t be easy, and she knew that. It had taken almost seven months for him to vocally admit that he was questioning the beliefs on blood status that he had grown up to believe, for Merlin’s sake! If there was any word to describe Draco, it would be prideful, and she could tell that he was trying to keep up the front that everyone expected of him. She knew that she could slowly take that front down, just as she had been doing for the past few months. He was already almost completely there when it was the two of them, but when it came to situations such as the present, he always shut himself off, and Hermione was struggling to find another alternative to get him to open up completely to her.

 

“It’s just...different,” Draco spoke. “I’ve let you in on so much. I know that we’re friends, I’m not at a point where I’ll deny that to you now,” he said and she quietly let out a breath of relief at his admission. “But you can’t know.” His eyes met hers and she saw his silent pleading.

 

She couldn’t push him further. She wouldn’t. “You’ll be alright though. Won’t you?” She asked.

 

If she wasn’t as perceptive, she wouldn’t have noticed the quick darting of his eyes away from her before he nodded. “I’ll be fine,” he assured her, although his tone stated otherwise.

 

Hermione couldn’t help herself and closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle and rest the side of her face against his chest, her eyes just in line with his collar bones. When his arms came around her, she hugged him tighter. Because when he held her, she felt whole, and like nothing could break her at that point. She felt small in his hold, but strong as herself, and she hoped that by hugging him back just as fiercely that he could feel the same too. 

 

That he could feel unbreakable… Strong…

 

_ Needed _ …

 

* * *

 

 

For the rest of the week, Hermione and Draco decided against going to their Room after their last visit. Hermione reasoned that if they waited a while, Harry would give up on trying to get into the Room, or waiting outside it. Going to the Room with Draco would be too risky, especially if they had to leave it and would not know if Harry would be waiting outside, and she knew that she had been careless in asking him to visit her there at lunchtime on Monday.

 

They instead spent their free time in the library, at their normal back table, where they would work away at their homework and chat, making up for the lost time they’d had when the elves had been tailing Draco’s every move. As much as Hermione loved spending time with Harry and Ron (which had happened a lot the previous week), spending time with Draco was completely different in so many ways. She found herself looking forward to the conversations they would have, where she would always learn something new about him, and in turn, he would ask questions of her that let him learn about her more.

 

The position of their table at the back of the library meant that no other student ventured there. The books on the stacks weren’t relevant to the majority of subjects taken at the school, and Madam Pince seemed to trust Hermione and Draco enough that she didn’t feel the need to poke her nose around the shelves and snoop on what they were up to.

 

Together, the both of them worked through their homework from the classes they shared, trading theories and answers. When Hermione found herself getting particularly frustrated in learning a new concept of Arithmancy, Draco was there to step in and explain it further. Just the same, whenever he grew confused by certain rune translations, she was more than eager to help him, finding that she enjoyed imparting her knowledge on someone who shared an interest in the subject, something she couldn’t do with Harry or Ron due to their short patience and in most cases, attention spans.

 

The week was one of the more enjoyable Hermione had had since the Christmas holidays and on Friday night upon being told by Madam Pince that she was closing the library, Hermione and Draco made plans to meet up the next morning to finish their pieces of homework that were proving particularly tiresome. Hermione went to bed that night with a smile on her face and let out a relaxed sigh.

 

Things were looking good again...

* * *

 

 

When Hermione arrived in the library the next morning, she gave Madam Pince a quick smile and fought off the feeling that the librarian  _ knew _ that she had brought in two blueberry muffins for her and Draco to share, tucked deep in her bag; the older witch had quite the intimidating stare. She hurried through the room, winding between the tables and then the shelves to get to their normal table at the back, and found Draco already waiting.

 

“Took you long enough,” he drawled and sat up straight when she began to empty her bag. When she placed the muffins on the table, he raised an eyebrow and then smirked. “Willingly bringing food into the library? What would old Pince think?”

 

“Shut up,” Hermione rolled her eyes and took her seat across from him and watched him relax back into his chair again. Under the table she felt one of his feet come to rest between hers, his other on the other side of her right foot, but she didn’t move her feet away and neither did he, unlike any other time it had happened between them. “I’ve been dying for a muffin, and I didn’t eat a lot at breakfast,” she justified and pushed one muffin to him and took the other to sit in front of her and broke off a piece and popped it in her mouth.

 

“Good?” He asked and she felt her cheeks heat when she saw his eyes wandering up from looking at her fingers which she held near her mouth.

 

“Mm-hm,” she hummed and distracted herself by opening up her book, Confronting the Faceless, to begin her reading for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

 

Studying with Draco had become so normal that the both of them fell into a comfortable silence as they started to work on their respective homework. It always just seemed to  _ work _ between the both of them. They never ended up annoying each other by constantly talking, but they didn’t bore each other by consistently working the whole time they were together. She would occasionally glance over at him whenever she took another piece of muffin, and granted herself a few seconds of watching him work. He always furrowed his brow when he completed his work, she had noticed, and wondered if he knew too.

 

She was glad it was Saturday, so the both of them could spend as much time in the library as they wanted to without having to worry about the time restraints of their free periods or breaks between classes. With an unexpected fresh falling of snow the night before, many students had decided to spend midday outside throwing snowballs at each other, whilst others preferred the warmth of their common rooms.

 

It was only when Hermione finished reading a chapter of the textbook and reached the end of the piece of parchment she was taking notes on, that she noticed how long she and Draco had been working without speaking. She sat up straight with a soft groan when her shoulders protested from being hunched over for so long, and she crossed one leg over the other under the table. Her foot jolted when it pressed against Draco’s calf and her eyes widened slightly when she saw him slowly look at her then have his lips quirk upwards.

 

“What are you working on?” She rushed out quickly and looked at his parchment instead of his mouth. What she saw made her eyes widen even more, but for completely different reasons than before. “ _ Draco _ , that is incredible!”

 

The sheet of parchment in front of him was mapped with intricate patterns, his small, neat writing in various places across the page. “It’s for Astronomy,” he told her. “It’s the Musca constellation. I won’t be able to complete it today, but I’ve managed to do quite a bit,” he shrugged.

 

“It looks like it’s come straight from a textbook,” she commented and put her hand in the middle of the table, palm upright. “May I?” She asked.

 

“Be my guest,” Draco said and handed the parchment to her. “Just don’t smudge it, because I can’t promise I won’t yell at you if you do,” he joked and she looked up with a smile. Her gaze returned to the parchment and she marveled over it, both impressed with Draco’s skills at drawing it out, and the constellation itself.

 

“Why did you choose to study this constellation?” She asked him.

 

“We’re researching different stellar associations,” he said. “That’s like...a big group of stars that move together,” he explained to her and she nodded along. “Professor Sinistra is letting us pick our favourite constellations to research and base our essays on. I really like learning about the Scorpius-Centaurus Association, and some of its brightest stars are from the Musca constellation. So, I drew Musca.”

  
Hermione nodded, looking at the parchment as he explained. He always managed to impress her with his depth of knowledge on the subject of Astronomy, a class that she had enjoyed to some degree but never really wanted to pursue further. “Why is that association your favourite?” She asked him.

 

He laughed under his breath and she smiled and looked at him properly. “It sounds pretty amazing,” he said. “ _ Scorpius-Centaurus _ . It’s pretty badass, don’t you think?”

 

Hermione laughed and shook her head at his reasoning. “It is quite a good name, I guess you’re right.”

 

“What have I told you before, Granger?” He smirked. “I’m always right.”

 

* * *

 

 

During breakfast on Sunday morning, Ginny had approached Hermione in a fluster, practically begging for help on her Transfiguration homework that needed to be finished the next day. Hermione didn’t even spare a glance at the Slytherin table and left the Great Hall with some toast wrapped in a napkin for herself and Ginny to eat up in the common room.

 

She hadn’t made any plans with Draco to meet up that day although she had been hoping they could, but the look of worry and stress on Ginny’s face made her put the younger witch first. After all, Hermione did love to teach the concepts she already knew like the back of her hand.

 

The morning faded into the afternoon as Hermione helped with Ginny’s essay whilst also reading her own novel at one of the free tables in the common room. Upon finishing her essay, Ginny had started chatting to Hermione about the book she was reading, which Hermione was happy to talk about. Both girls found themselves in a long conversation, full of laughing, gasps (more on Hermione’s part after hearing some of the things Ginny spoke about), and swapping stories. It wasn’t until Dean came in and Ginny said her goodbye to Hermione, that she realised how long it had been since she and the youngest Weasley had spent time together!

 

She took her novel to the couch in front of the fire and continued to read well until dinner time, which she attended only because Seamus had wandered passed and asked her if she had already been to eat and come back. Realising how hungry she was, she rushed down to the Great Hall after Seamus had done the same, and she was the only student not in the Great Hall by the time she stepped off the last stair.

 

“Granger!” She heard a sharp whisper from her left and she stopped just before the large doors to the Great Hall.

 

She knew it was Draco and turned to look where his voice had come from; the entrance to the dungeon corridors. “What is it?” She asked, looking over her shoulder before she rushed over to him.

 

“Where have you been all day?” He asked her, and the both of them stepped into the shadows.

 

“In the common room,” Hermione answered. “We didn’t plan to meet up.”

 

“Yeah…” He nodded. “Want to go to our Room after dinner?”

 

She smiled widely. “Definitely,” she agreed. “I think Harry’s given up on waiting by it, so we should be safe.”

 

“Brilliant. I’ve already eaten. I’ll meet you up there,” Draco said with a small smile of his own, and then left the shadows to go up the stairs while Hermione split off to go to dinner.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione couldn’t believe how late it was when she caught a glance of her watch. It was just a few minutes passed the end of curfew, but she had no desire to rush back to Gryffindor Tower. She glanced over at Draco and saw him bending quite close to his parchment that rested on top of a book on his lap, and watched as he drew lines with his quill, all seeming to connect up in a way that she didn’t understand.

 

“Are you drawing another constellation?” She asked, breaking the silence that the room had been in for quite some time.

 

Draco looked up from his work and let out a small laugh and gave a shake of his head. “No, not really,” he said. “I’m just making it up. It’s just a fake constellation.”

 

“And we can’t even name it after you since some other stars have that honour,” Hermione joked and put her own book down on the coffee table. “Can I see?” She asked, but didn’t really wait for an answer, and moved over on the couch to sit closer to him and look at the parchment.

 

“I think you made that decision for yourself,” he snorted, but turned the parchment to let her see it better.

 

She smiled, but continued to look at the lines and dots on the paper, seeing where he had derived his own groupings of stars. “Do you make them up normally?” She asked.

 

“Sometimes. When I’m bored, mostly,” he admitted with a shrug.

 

“I wouldn’t be able to do that,” Hermione admitted. “I’m not the best at drawing, and even if I was, I wouldn’t know what to draw in the first place.”

 

“If you had stayed doing Astronomy you’d probably be able to do it,” Draco said. “It’s not that hard when you get into the flow of things.”

 

Hermione nodded and then looked up from the parchment to his face, and moved back slightly with a flush when she realised how close their heads were together. “Can you draw another one?” She asked. “So I can see from start to finish?”

 

He nodded and then looked around. “I don’t have any more parchment,” he said after a few seconds.

 

Hermione chewed her bottom lip. She had used the last of the parchment she’d brought to the Room, to finish her Transfiguration essay. “Wait,” she came up with an idea, and pulled the sleeve of her jumper up, then rolled up the sleeve of her shirt underneath it. She knew it was rather ridiculous, as she bared her forearm to him, palm facing down, with the intention of him drawing on it, but she did want to see...and it was rather fun, wasn’t it?

 

“On your arm? Are you sure?” Draco asked with a raised brow, and he chuckled when she nodded. “Alright…” He shook his head with a smile.

 

His hand rest down on the top of hers, and she mentally applauded for not making a fool of herself at the touch, by flushing, or tensing her hand up. His fingers were rather cold, but she didn’t mind, and she watched as he pressed the nib of the quill to the skin of her wrist and started to draw. The ink felt cold and foreign on her skin, which made her concentrate more on the lightness of his fingertips as he touched her, sometimes moving up her arm to hold her skin taut as he drew. Her eyes lifted from looking at the drawing on her arm, to his face, where his brows were furrowed in concentration and there was the faintest dash of colouring on his cheekbones.

 

She didn’t care that she wasn’t watching the ink anymore, nor did she care about the time, and how long Draco spent carefully marking her skin, letting his creativity show. She only knew that he was finished, when his gaze lifted from her arm, to her face, and she blushed from being caught looking at him. “Done,” he said, his voice quiet, and she looked down at her arm. 

  
Hermione’s lips parted, seeing the carefully drawn lines and shapes across her arm, seeing what Draco had drawn in such limited space in such little time. She was  _ more _ than impressed. “That looks amazing,” she breathed and turned her arm slightly to see it all. She smiled at the drawing, and then her breath caught in her throat when his hand came to rest on hers once more, his palm against hers this time. “Draco?” She asked, wanting to know what he was doing, but somehow, by looking at his face again, she knew exactly what it was.

 

“I don’t...want you to say sorry this time,” he said, and she became aware of  _ everything _ . How close their heads had moved together, how the side of her thigh was pressed against his...how her arm was practically laying on his lap.

 

“I won’t be,” Hermione assured him, and her heart thundered in her chest when he lifted one hand and placed it on her cheek. She’d never realised how big his hands were until that point. His thumb brushed against her cheekbone, and she saw him breathe in before he leant closer.

 

His eyes widened slightly when he didn’t have to lean as far as he thought, because Hermione closed the gap between them, and their lips pressed together, rather clumsily, but it was everything that she had been wanting to happen. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest, and almost froze when she watched as Draco’s eyes slowly closed, and she quickly followed suit and squeezed her eyes shut before realising that wouldn’t look too good if Draco was to open his eyes again. She relaxed her eyelids, and her hand moved to take hold of the front of his jumper and she curled the fabric in her fingers as he pressed his lips harder to hers.

 

Hermione quickly opened her eyes when he pulled back some time later, and she let out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding in. “Is… Was… Uh. Was that okay?” She stammered, and then was overcome with the feeling of everything being amazing when the corner of his lips turned up.

 

“More than okay,” he answered and this thumb moved along her cheek, and she knew he could clearly see how red she had become. “We can do that again, if you’d like?” He asked, and from the slight pause in his words and the flush on his own cheeks, she realised that she wasn’t the only one who was stumbling over what to do next.

 

“Yes,” she answered...  _ Too _ quickly, though. “I mean, yes, well… I think we should. If you want, but…”

 

She trailed off when he laughed softly. “I think we should too,” he said to her, and this time, it was her turn to lean forward first. She turned slightly on the couch, so she was facing him properly rather than the both of them sitting side by side, and in moving, her nose bumped against his, and his teeth caught her bottom lip.

 

“Sorry,” she mumbled in embarrassment, and she felt the breath of his laugh against her chin.

 

“Don’t be,” he shook his head, then their lips met once again. It felt perfect. She didn’t know if what she was doing was right, or if Draco was doing it right either, but it all felt like it worked. She tilted her head slightly to the right, and their kiss deepened, as he took her bottom lip between his, and she felt her hand shake slightly as she lifted it up to rest on the bottom of his neck. She almost pulled back when she twined her fingers in the hair by the nape of his neck and he made a noise, before she realised that it wasn’t a noise of displeasure in any way.

 

Their noses bumped once more when Draco tilted his head to the right to change angles, and she hoped with everything in her that he was enjoying the kiss as much as she was.  _ He has to be, otherwise he wouldn’t be kissing you back and-- Oh! _

 

Her thoughts disappeared immediately when the tip of his tongue touched her bottom lip and his other hand came to rest on her waist, where she could feel his fingers curl into her jumper. Never quite having kissed like this before, Hermione wasn’t quite sure if what she was doing was correct (and  _ Merlin _ did she want to be right at this), but knew the general idea of kissing, and parted her lips wider too and Draco eagerly took the invitation.

 

The more their tongues touched, the harder her heart thudded in her chest, until eventually she gently moved her hands to his shoulders, and pulled back from the kiss. She let out a breath, as did he, and then smiled upon seeing the grin on his face. “What?” She asked, slightly embarrassed from the way he was looking at her.

 

He shrugged a shoulder and dropped his hand from her cheek and instead put it on top of her hand which now rested on her legs. “I think we’ve both been waiting to do that,” he admitted.

 

The admission was enough to put Hermione’s worry at ease; he did want this just as much as she did, there was now no denying it.

 

“I’ve never been so pleased to get rid of house elves before,” she admitted with a slight laugh.

 

“At least it won’t happen again,” Draco agreed and she nodded with a smile, and resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss him once more.


	24. Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me! oeuvre24 is uploading on FFN, don't forget! 
> 
> Thank you all for reading, reviewing and loving this story :')

Hermione met with Harry and Ron in the common room the next morning with a bright smile on her face and a glow in her cheeks. Ron had asked her what she looked so cheery about and she’d waved her hand dismissively and blamed her good mood on a solid night’s sleep and the sunny weather that had decided to make an appearance that day. 

 

“But it’s a  _ Monday,”  _ Ron groaned. “How can anyone be happy on a Monday?” 

 

Harry grunted in agreement while Hermione merely shook her head. Her two best friends may not have been eager to start another week of classes, but  _ she  _ certainly was. There were still traces of ink on her arm from last night, but they were now covered by her school uniform. Still, she knew they were there. Her lips had felt swollen by the time she had returned to the common room last night and the image of Draco leaning in towards her with his hand on her cheek was practically burnt into her brain. It was hard  _ not  _ to think about kissing Draco. Needless to say, she was excited to see him during classes, and she hoped he was just as excited to see her too. 

 

As the trio entered the Great Hall for breakfast, Hermione noticed the rest of the student body seemed to be in a good mood as well, as the chatter seemed louder than usual. Her eyes fell to the Slytherin table as the three of them walked side by side to the Gryffindor table and a smile played at her lips when she spotted Draco talking quite animatedly to Blaise and Theo. Though she wasn’t fond of his friends, she was glad to see that he wasn’t isolating himself lately. 

 

Harry and Ron discussed the next Quidditch practice scheduled for that evening while Hermione nibbled on her toast and scanned the pages of The Daily Prophet. A few minutes after they had sat down, Ginny joined them, looking quite disgruntled. 

 

“Everything alright, Ginny?” Hermione asked, setting down the Prophet and pushing aside her empty plate. 

 

“Dean and I had another row,” the youngest Weasley explained as she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. “Not really how I wanted to start my Monday morning, you know?” 

 

Hermione nodded sympathetically and folded up the Daily Prophet. Harry, she noticed, had gone still, most likely in the hopes Ginny would elaborate on the subject. “Sorry to hear that, Gin, but I’ve got to go. We can talk later tonight?” she offered as she slung her bag over her shoulder. 

 

There was still quite a bit of time until she needed to be at Ancient Runes, but she hoped that Draco would see her leaving early and head up there as well. Without the elves following Draco, and Harry no longer obsessively checking his Map, they could finally wait out in the hallway together until class began. 

 

Ginny shook her head while she chewed her eggs and held a finger up to Hermione until she finished. “Thanks,” she said with a smile. “But there’s Quidditch practice tonight and it’s really not a big deal.” 

 

And with that, Hermione waved good-bye to the three of them and told the two boys she was off to the library before class. Just as she left the table, Lavender slid into the seat she had just been sitting in and threw her arms around Ron, who looked pitifully at his plate of half-eaten breakfast. 

 

* * *

 

Luckily for Hermione, Draco was just as smart and perceptive as she was and had picked up on her early departure from breakfast. He showed up in the hallway just a few minutes after she did, with a smile on his face and a slight bounce in his step. She smiled widely at him as he approached to where she stood against the wall and her heart swelled when he nudged his arm against hers. 

 

“Studying already?” he teased, peering over at her Transfiguration textbook. 

 

“Please,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “The test is tomorrow, I’ve been studying for over a week.” 

 

Draco laughed and let his bag fall to the floor beside him. He stood with his hands shoved in his pockets and one leg propped up against the wall. Hermione glanced over at him, and she saw the corners of his lips flicker upwards when he caught sight of her exposed arm. She’d rolled up her sleeves when she arrived at the classroom a few minutes before and in doing so, exposed what was left of the constellation that Draco had drawn on her the night before. 

 

“You didn’t wash it off,” he said with a grin. 

 

“Well,” she explained, shutting her book and feeling slightly guilty. “I did shower this morning and most of it came off… But some of it is still there, yes.” She smiled fondly down at her arm. 

 

Draco’s fingers trailed down the skin of her forearm, sending shivers up her spine. How was his touch always so delicate? Hermione checked over his shoulder to ensure no one was coming, and so far, the corridor was completely deserted. 

 

“Harry has Quidditch practice tonight,” she whispered as his hand dropped back to his side. Goosebumps had overtaken her skin where the tips of his fingers had touched. “We could go to our Room.” 

 

She knew he was thinking the same thing she was, judging by the mischievous glint in his eye, but it faded quickly and his features fell in disappointment and guilt. “I can’t,” he said. “I have to--”

But at that moment, the warning bell rang, bouncing off the stone walls. The corridors would be filled with students any second now, but Hermione knew what he was going to say before they were interrupted. He wouldn’t be able to meet up with her because he was going to the Room of Requirement to do whatever it was he did in there. She wasn’t angry persay, but she was disappointed, and it was something she didn’t bother to hide from him. Though it was a comfort to see that he didn’t look as though he wanted to spend the evening locked away in the room. 

 

“Will you be here tomorrow?” she asked as students began to fill the corridor, chatting to one another. 

 

Draco nodded and lifted his bag back onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he really did sound it. “We’ll meet up in our Room tomorrow.” 

 

“And you’ll be careful?” she asked as Professor Babbling opened the classroom door, allowing them to enter. 

 

“I’ve always been careful,” he replied. “Potter’s just persistent.” 

 

She couldn’t deny that. Harry was obsessive, and as Draco had said, persistent. Once he deemed something important, there was no talking him out of it. The two took their seats at their usual table and retrieved their textbooks, quills and parchment from their bags. As the rest of the class took their seats, Professor Babbling informed them they would be working in pairs on a set of translations. 

 

Hermione smiled at Draco and as he smiled back at her, she couldn’t help but feel that for the first time all year, luck was on her side. 

 

* * *

 

“Hermione?” Harry’s voice sounded from somewhere to her right. “Hermione!” he said a bit louder, nudging her side with his elbow. 

 

“Hm?” she answered, turning to look at her best friend. 

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his brows furrowed and a frown of concern on his face. 

 

“Oh, yes,” she said, facing forward again as they walked back towards the common room for break. “Sorry,” she gushed after fully breaking away from her thoughts. “We were translating an entire chapter of Runes today and some of them really had me stumped…” 

 

When Harry nodded and continued his conversation with Ron, Hermione let out a small sigh of relief. She had not been thinking about Ancient Runes, but rather the icy grey of Draco’s eyes, and that he seemed to smile so effortlessly in her presence. She’d gotten caught up in watching his lips move as he spoke and once or twice she’d had to resist the urge to reach out and intertwine her hand with his. It had been all she’d been thinking about all morning, but it wasn’t technically a lie, what she had told Harry. Ancient Runes was by far one of her most difficult subjects this year, and by the end of the lesson, she had a dull headache. 

 

“Hey, Hermione,” Harry said, tugging at the sleeve of her robes. “Ron and I are going to head to the bathroom. We’ll meet you in the common room in a few minutes?” 

 

“Alright,” she said with a small wave and continued up the next set of stairs. 

 

The common room was mostly empty when Hermione arrived not even ten minutes later. A couple of fourth years sat a table in the corner and hardly looked her way as she went to reserve the table by the window. Instead of pulling out her books, she took to staring out the window. The sky was clear and the grass was slowly growing greener. She’d been watching a bird hop from one tree branch to another when she saw something, or rather someone, whiz by on a broom. 

 

Her eyes narrowed in on the figure climbing higher in the sky; it was only when the sunlight caught his hair that she realized it was Draco. Her heart swelled for him and she let her head rest in the palm of her hand. How long had it been since he’d gone out to fly? She watched as he did a few loops before swooping lower towards the ground and pulling upwards once again. He really was a fantastic flyer, and if she weren’t so terrified of being on a broom, she’d love nothing more than to wrap her arms around his waist and let him show her what it was like. 

 

Harry and Ron still hadn’t returned and she continued to watch Draco as he flitted in and out of her sight. Even though he had no idea she watching him, it still felt intimate somehow, to witness such a private moment that she knew was bringing him relief and joy. 

 

“Does Myrtle have  _ no  _ boundaries?” she heard Ron say loudly from across the common room. 

 

Startled, Hermione turned away from the window quickly and waved the boys over once they had made eye contact. 

 

“Just because she’s a ghost doesn’t mean she can float anywhere she pleases!” Ron grumbled as he sat down across from her. 

 

“Er, sorry, but what’s happened?” she interjected, holding up a hand to stop Ron from complaining about Myrtle. Harry looked shocked, and didn’t seem to be paying attention to the conversation. “Harry!” she said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “What happened?” she asked again once Harry was properly looking at her. 

 

“Ron and I went to go to the bathroom and--”

 

“Bloody Myrtle was in there!” Ron chimed in. “Moaning like she always does.” 

 

“Yes,” Harry said with a nod. “But she said...she said a boy has been coming there to talk to her and he...he would cry to her. He hasn’t been to visit her in a while though.” 

 

Hermione hummed in thought and bounced her foot underneath the table. She knew of one boy who’d she seen come out of the bathroom with red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. It was the same boy who had cried in front of her twice now. She bit the inside of her cheek and pushed away the thought of Draco crying to Myrtle. 

 

“You’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, aren’t you?” Hermione sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

 

“Malfoy’s looked off all year Hermione!” Harry insisted, his tone perhaps more snippy than it needed to be. 

 

“Come to think of it though, Malfoy’s looked cheerful lately,” Ron commented thoughtfully. 

 

Hermione hoped the heat she felt rush to her cheeks wasn’t noticeable. Luckily, the bell signaling the end of break sounded throughout the castle. “Well, you two can sit and brew about this if you’d like, but I’ve got to head to Arithmancy.” 

 

She thought she heard Ron suggest playing a game of Wizard’s Chess as she headed towards the Portrait hole but her mind had already wandered to the new bit of information Harry had shared. Had Draco really felt so lonely at one point that he’d cried to Moaning Myrtle? Just the thought of it made her heart hurt. 

 

* * *

 

_ Have a nice break?  _ She had scribbled onto the parchment between them. Draco shot her a confused look and she smiled at him before bending over the parchment to elaborate.  _ I saw you out on your broom. It looked like you were having a good time.  _

 

_ Are you following me around now?  _ He had written and she snorted when she read his response. Draco let out a laugh and pulled the parchment closer to him, scribbling words Hermione couldn’t see.  _ It’s been a while. The weather was nice. Flying always helps me clear my mind.  _

 

So she had been right in thinking he was enjoying himself out there. If she continued to smile this much, especially in his presence, her cheeks would surely fall off. 

 

_ So not only are you excellent at sketching constellations, but you’re an excellent flyer as well? Is there anything you can’t do? _

 

It was meant to be a joke, a compliment of sorts but his expression faltered into something she couldn’t decipher and for the remainder of their double Arithmancy period, Draco stayed concentrated on his work. 

 

She’d asked Draco at the end of their lesson if he’d rather go to their Room or the library for their free period, but he told her he would be busy and wouldn’t be able to meet up with her. She could tell he wasn’t being entirely truthful, from the way he averted her eyes to how quickly he packed up his belongings and headed to the door. As she watched him disappear from the classroom, she kicked herself for being the cause of his sudden change in demeanor. 

 

* * *

Potions never provided opportunities to talk to, or casually look over at Draco. Not only did the work usually call for their undivided attention, but even if it didn’t, there was no way she could do so much as glance at his table with Harry and Ron on either side of her. She was glad the three of them were back to normal, but sometimes she wished they didn’t share so many classes together.

 

At the end of the lesson, Hermione couldn’t help but notice that Draco was one of the first to leave the dungeon. She packed away her belongings one by one, staring at the doors the Slytherin had just disappeared through. 

 

“You two go on,” Harry muttered. “I’m going to try and talk to Slughorn.” 

 

Ron clapped a hand on her shoulder and asked if she was ready, to which she nodded without saying a word. Guilt had since settled into her stomach and she could only hope that Draco would still meet up with her tomorrow as promised. 

 

Once back in the common room, Hermione secluded herself to the armchair closest to the fire and resumed the novel she had been reading a few days ago. Ron had tried talking to her about Quidditch, but he quickly realized she wasn’t paying attention and resorted to using Harry’s broom maintenance kit to polish his broom. Harry returned not long after, looking defeated and frustrated. Hermione decided to keep her thoughts to herself this time and let the two boys talk Quidditch strategies and plays until it was time for them to head down to the pitch. 

 

Time seemed to drag by slowly that evening. Instead of getting lost in her novel, she found herself glancing at her watch to see how much time had passed or staring absentmindedly at the portrait hole, wondering if Draco was alright and if he was wishing he were with her as much as she wished to be with him right now. 

  
  
  


* * *

 

Hermione was taken aback on Tuesday morning when Draco offered her a smile and subtle nod as he entered the Great Hall alone. Did that mean everything was okay between them? Had he not been upset with her yesterday and she had merely misinterpreted or had he just simply gotten over it? Regardless, his small acknowledgement brightened her spirits for first period Potions. Hermione chatted cheerfully with Harry, Ron and Neville for the duration of breakfast and when the bell rang, the trio said goodbye to Neville and headed for the dungeons.  

 

Her morning classes flew by and before  she knew it, it was time for break. Harry suggested the three of them go sit out by the lake and Ron had quickly agreed to the idea. They settled their belongings and kicked off their shoes. With all of her homework completed for the time being, Hermione dug out her book on Advanced Defensive Spells and a new sheet of parchment for notes. 

 

“You know,” she said after the three had spent several minutes in silence. “We really should head out to the cave this weekend, since we’ll already be in Hogsmeade.” 

 

“I won’t be going,” Harry said. “Remember? There’s not much of a point. I can’t take the test in April.” 

 

“Aw come on, mate,” Ron said, breaking away from his Charms essay. “We can go to Honeydukes after the lesson!” 

 

“You really should come along, Harry,” she interjected before Harry could shoot Ron down. “It’s the perfect opportunity to practice wards for a few hours.” 

 

Harry shrugged. “I was thinking of giving Slughorn another go, actually.” 

 

Hermione beamed at her best friend. “Really? Well, that’s fine, then. Ron and I could always go to the cave to practice for a bit, right Ron?” 

 

“What?” he said. “Oh, er, yeah... Can we still go to Honeydukes, though? It’s been ages.” 

 

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “Sure, Ron.” 

 

* * *

 

As both Draco and Hermione had a free period after Runes, and Harry and Ron went to practice Quidditch by themselves, they had agreed to meet up in their Room. He’d been friendly towards her like he usually was in the morning despite their little mishap the day before. They’d passed a piece of parchment back and forth all through Ancient Runes and by the end of the lesson, they’d covered both sides of the parchment in their notes. But there was still that little nagging voice in the back of her mind that made her wonder if things were really okay between them again or if he was just ignoring something he didn’t want to address.

 

They hadn’t talked much when they first arrived at the Room and an almost awkward silence fell between them. Draco had sat down on the couch and patted the cushion next to him  before withdrawing his Astronomy textbook from his bag. After she sat down next to him and pulled out her Charms essay, they fell into their typical work routine; silence filled with the occasional comment about whatever it was they were working on. 

 

Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip while she tapped her feet against Draco’s thigh and stared aimlessly at the essay in front of her. She had long since shifted into a comfortable position, and Draco hadn't objected when she did. Though he did look quite occupied by his Astronomy textbook and may not have noticed at all. 

 

“Draco?” she said finally, setting her essay down on the coffee table. “I have a question.” 

 

Draco snapped his book shut and sat back to look at her; one of his hands came to rest on her sock covered foot. “And I might have an answer,” he said with a pointed stare, reminding her there was one subject in particular he wouldn't talk about with her. 

 

“Did I upset you yesterday?” she said so quickly it sounded like one word. “In my note, I mean. When I asked--” She didn’t want to finish her sentence, she didn’t want to repeat what she had already said. 

 

But Draco shook his head and rested a hand on her knee. “No,” he said fiercely. “It wasn’t… _Shit_ … Have you ever tried everything possible to make something work and it just doesn’t happen?” 

 

There was only one thing she could think of, and it was something she wasn’t sure she was ready to admit to him. But he’d opened to up her on several occasions, at this point, and he’s never uttered a word of their friendship. She trusted him, she did, she just wasn’t sure he would  _ understand.  _ “I wouldn’t say that exactly but… Well, that’s kind of how it feels being muggle-born.” Draco’s expression softened and his hand still hadn’t moved from her knee. “After Professor Dumbledore explained everything, I did everything in my power to make sure I knew as much as I could before I came to Hogwarts. But that’s not all it takes to fit in.” 

 

He squeezed her knee. “Granger--” 

 

“I’m just as much a witch as I am a muggle, and I’m proud of that,” she said fiercely. “It’s just an unpleasant feeling knowing to some people, I’ll never belong here.” She was proud of being a muggle-born, she really, truly was. It was just frustrating knowing that no matter what she would do, some people would still look at her as inferior. When she looked up at Draco, he didn’t seem uncomfortable and the grip he had on her knee had tightened. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “This was supposed to be about you, not me. You were saying?”

 

Draco looked at her as though he wanted to reassure her, but his mouth simply hung open and no words came out. His mouth snapped shut and with both of his hands, held one of hers. One of his hands intertwined with hers while the other traced along the back of her hand and her fingers. 

 

“There’s just this...thing I’ve been trying to do for months, and nothing I try is working. It’s just… I don’t know if I can do it,” he managed to get out. 

 

Hermione nodded in understanding as the pieces fell together. She’d accidentally hit a sore spot. Draco let go of her hand and stretched one of his arms along the back of the couch. Hermione shifted herself so she was curled up under his arm with her head almost resting against his chest.  His arm came to rest around her shoulders and she smiled to herself as his fingers curled around her arm.

 

“You know I worry about you right?” she asked quietly, her hand intertwining with his free one.

 

“You needn’t to, though,” he murmured. Hermione let out a shaky laugh and squeezed his hand a little tighter. “Do you really think I’m an excellent flyer?” he asked. 

 

This time, she let out a hearty laugh and tilted her face upwards so she could see him. Merlin, he had a sharp jawline. Hermione leaned forward and Draco seemed to do the same until their lips met. It was soft and gentle and by far the shortest of their kisses so far. When she pulled away, she could see he was smiling at her, his thumb now stroking her shoulder. 

 

“Yes, I do,” she said before letting her head rest against his chest once more. 

 

* * *

 

Like she and Draco usually did every Wednesday, they spent their entire double Arithmancy lesson passing notes back and forth. She had asked Draco if he was going to the Apparition lesson in Hogsmeade this weekend and her heart skipped a bit when he had told her that he would be. She might not be able to actually spend time with him in Hogsmeade, but at least she would see him about. 

 

_ Did you see we have rounds together Thursday evening?  _ He’d written towards the end of the period. 

 

_ I did.  _ She wrote back. 

 

_ You have a free period Friday morning, yes?  _ Draco replied.  _ Care to take a little detour with me after our rounds?  _

 

Hermione shot him a curious look but at that moment the bell rang and they were forced to pack away their belongings. She slipped the parchment into her bag and nodded at him eagerly. 

 

Draco returned her smile as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow night, Granger.” 

 

With that, he was gone. For the remainder of her day, Hermione could hardly focus on her classes, and instead spent her time wondering what on Earth Draco had been talking about when he said ‘detour’. She’d hardly paid attention to any of Harry and Ron’s conversations and at one point during dinner, she had been confused when she saw that the two boys were no longer sitting beside her. 

 

“Where did they go?” she asked Ginny, who was almost finished with her plate. 

 

“Are you serious?” Ginny asked incredulously. “They literally just said five minutes ago they were going down to privately practice flying for a bit.” 

 

Hermione blushed and looked back down at her barely touched food. Her mashed potatoes must be cold by now. “Sorry, I was just thinking about--”

 

But Ginny had suddenly stood up after pushing back her plate. She stared pointedly at Hermione with her hands on her hips and Hermione couldn’t help but think Ginny could give her own mother a run for her money with that stare. 

 

“Finished?” the redhead asked, nodding down at her plate. Before Hermione could answer however, Ginny pulled her up by the arm. “Come on, let’s go back to the common room.”

 

The entire way back to the common room, Ginny wouldn’t explain what was going on or why they had left dinner so suddenly. It was only when they were sat in two armchairs in front of the fire (and Ginny had shooed away a couple of second years) that she spoke. 

 

“I’ll talk to you about Dean, if you tell me why the hell you’ve been so distracted lately.” 

 

“I haven’t been--” Hermione started to argue but Ginny pursed her lips and Hermione fell silent. There really wasn’t much of a point in denying it. She wasn’t about to insult Ginny; the young witch wasn’t stupid or oblivious. 

 

Hermione sighed. She could pull this off. There were loads of things that could be distracting her these days. “I don’t know, Gin. My homework has never been so heavy and difficult, Harry’s got those lessons with Dumbledore and there’s the unknown of what’s going to come of all this still looming over us. Everything’s just been...intense, this year.” 

 

Ginny’s eyes narrowed into slits, scrutinizing her, trying to determine if what she’d been told was the truth. And  _ technically,  _ it was. She’d just left part of the truth out. 

 

“You’re sure there’s nothing else on your mind?” Ginny asked warily. “Or someone?”

 

Hermione thought her heart was going to leap out of her chest when Ginny wiggled an eyebrow and looked at her almost knowingly, but she fought to keep her expression calm. “I’m sure, but thanks for the concern, I think,” she said; she didn’t think it was necessary for Ginny to drag her all the way up here for this. 

 

“Because if it’s a someone, you can tell me,” Ginny said, her voice softer now. 

 

Hermione smiled at the younger witch. “Thanks, Gin. Now why don’t you tell me about Dean?” 

 

* * *

 

Hermione wished for nothing more than her classes to fly by on Thursday, but of course because she wished for the day to come to an end, it dragged by slowly. The only upside to this was her double period of Ancient Runes with Draco, but he hadn’t been much of a help as he spent the entire period teasing her about his plans for that evening. Their Charms lesson that afternoon had proved to require their undivided attention and full concentration, leaving Harry and Ron less concerned about her silence and absent expression and more worried about the task at hand. 

 

She’d shoveled down her dinner and waited anxiously in the common room until quarter past eight. She said goodbye to Harry and Ron and told them she would see them in the morning for Transfiguration. By the time she reached the Entrance Hall, Draco was already waiting for her, his Prefect’s badge gleaming in the candlelight. 

 

“Ready?” he asked when she approached him. 

 

“Ready,” she said before they set off to cover the dungeons to start. 

 

Their conversation flowed easily as they patrolled the corridors; he told her tales of when he learned to fly as a child, before he ever went to Hogwarts and she explained a bit more about what her parents’ occupation entailed. He’d visibly cringed when she mentioned they sometimes pull out teeth. 

 

On the fifth floor, they’d come across a lost first year and helped them back to the Ravenclaw tower. With only two floors left, their rounds were coming to an end. Aside from the first year they had found, the castle was quiet that night. The only sounds were their voices that bounced off the walls and the dull thuds of their footsteps. The conversation between them dwindled into silence as they reached the seventh floor and Hermione realized then how nervous she was. Draco hadn’t mentioned their plans since Ancient Runes that day, and she was just about to ask if they were still taking a ‘detour’, as he had put it, when Draco cleared his throat and said, “We have to stop down at the kitchens after we’re done here.” 

 

“Erm, alright,” she said. “Why?” 

 

Draco laughed. “Always needing the answers to everything. Just trust me, will you?” 

 

“I do trust you,” she said, as their arms brushed against one another while they walked down the empty, dimly lit corridor. “But I’m still going to ask questions.” 

 

From the corner of her eye, she could see Draco smirk and shake his head. “Well I don’t always have answers.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. “Git,” she muttered. 

 

The seventh floor was devoid of students and any signs of mischief and it was only when they reached the lower levels, that Draco took her hand in his. It was warm against her skin, and much bigger than her own, yet somehow, they fit like two puzzle pieces. When they reached the portrait of a fruit bowl, Draco tickled the pear and waited for the portrait to swing open. 

 

The hoard of house elves greeted them eagerly and immediately began offering them gleaming trays with a variety of sweets and pastries. Hermione politely declined while Draco murmured something to a house elf who nodded along eagerly. 

 

A few moments later, the same elf Draco had been whispering to, returned with two muffins held in a cloth napkin. The elf handed them to Draco and after Hermione took his hand again, they departed for what she knew was their final destination of the night. 

 

* * *

 

 

In Runes that afternoon, Draco had requested that she bring her cloak with her to rounds, and standing atop the Astronomy Tower now, made her understand. Above them, the sky shimmered with stars, with not a cloud to be seen. Hermione had never really been outside and looked at the stars, but then again, she didn’t know as much about them as Draco did. The sight was truly breathtaking. 

 

When she turned around, she saw that Draco had laid a blanket on the floor of the tower and had started unpacking the basket the elves had arranged. 

 

“Where on Earth did you get a blanket?” she asked, dumbfounded. 

 

“I had it shrunk down in my pocket,” he said before patting an open spot on the blanket. Hermione sat down next to him and accepted the blueberry muffin he held out to her.

 

“Thanks,” she said before picking off a piece. 

 

“Is blueberry your favorite?” he asked once she had finished chewing. 

 

“Hm,” she said, picking off another piece of the muffin. “I do love blueberry, but banana nut is my favorite.” 

 

“Duly noted,” he muttered. Hermione noticed a hint of annoyance in his voice, and when she looked over at him, she guessed it must have been directed at himself. She hid her smile from him by taking another bite of her muffin. 

 

When she was done, she dug out the spare jar she always kept in her bag for chilly nights like this and filled it with blue flames. She sat the jar between them and smiled warmly at Draco. He was looking at her with a sort of fond expression on his face, his head tilted slightly to the side. Neither of them spoke, but when the silence between them was growing to be too much, Draco cleared his throat and laid down on his back. He looked over at her expectantly, which Hermione took as her cue to lay down as well. 

 

“I don’t know about you,” he said, his voice a tad higher than normal. “But this week has been positively exhausting. I can’t get through a Runes lesson anymore without getting a headache.” 

 

Hermione snorted and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. A blush crept up her neck to her cheeks. Did she really just do that? Judging by Draco’s laughter, he had found it amusing. She swatted at him. “Don’t laugh!” she giggled reluctantly. 

 

“Cute, Granger,” he muttered as one his hands found hers and laced their fingers together. 

 

The blush on her cheeks only grew darker at his compliment and she found herself unsure of what to say next. She didn’t even know why he had brought her up here. 

 

“Draco, erm... Why exactly are we up here anyway?” she asked, wanting to get the obvious question out of the way. 

 

He laughed and tilted his head to look at her, a smug smile on his lips. With his free arm, he pointed up to an area of the sky directly above them, though where exactly he was pointing, she had no idea.

 

“Do you see those three stars right there?” he asked. “The ones that are close together?” 

 

Hermione nodded as she strained her eyes to find the three stars he was talking about. 

“They form Orion’s belt. Now, the cluster above those and to the right a bit? That’s the Pleiades star cluster,” Draco explained, using his finger as a pointer. “Pleiades is made up of hundreds of stars, upwards of four hundred.” 

 

Hermione listened intently as he explained the Greek mythology behind it. The seven sisters, the romance between their parents and how Zeus had turned them into doves to set them free. When he mentioned the name Merope, one of the seven sisters, she let out a small gasp, remembering what Harry had told her about Voldemort’s history. She couldn’t help but wonder if Voldemort’s mother was named after one of the seven sisters. It wouldn’t be surprising if she was. 

 

Draco took her through the stars above them; pointing out ones that were the most visible, telling her which ones were more visible in the Spring and Summer months, and then his personal favorites. Their hands stayed intertwined and the flames in the jar emitted a subtle warmth around them. As Draco continued to list of names of stars and clusters, she realized she could listen to him talk all day and never grow tired of the sound of his voice. Years ago she used to find it grating and annoying but that was when he was too busy hurling insults at her friends or cracking obnoxious jokes. Now, it was melodic, soothing, comforting. 

 

She asked questions, about the legends or myths associated with the stars and he happily obliged, sometimes with several different tales for one star. 

 

“You know,” she said when he had finished and his free hand was resting on his chest. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Professor Sinistra disliked you because you constantly tried to teach the class yourself. You know so much…” 

 

Draco laughed softly. “I’m one of her favorite students, actually. I keep quiet and I know my stuff.” 

 

Silence fell between them again, though this time, more comfortable. With the stars twinkling above them, the flames keeping them warm against the chilly air, and Draco lying next to her, Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this content. Happy, even. If it weren’t for a curfew (which even as Prefects, they had now broken) and her two friends who hated the boy she was up here with, she would happily spend all night on the Astronomy tower with Draco. 

 

To her right, she heard Draco inhale sharply and felt cool air hit her hand when Draco let go. He shifted so he was lying on his side and looking directly at her. 

 

“What?” she asked, shifting so she was on her side as well. 

 

Draco shook his head. “It’s just...out of all my friends, not a single one would willingly come up and do this with me.” After a moment he added, “You’ve become my best friend, Granger.” 

 

Her heart swelled with pride and she couldn’t help but reach a hand over and brush away the hair that had fallen over his eyes. “Can I tell you a secret?” she asked, her voice no louder than a whisper. “I’m glad I’m the only one.” 

 

A shaky laugh escaped his lips. Draco moved the jar of blue flames to the other side of him before he scooted closer to her, so there were only mere inches between them. His fingers trailed down her arm before trailing back up and he brushed the hair off her shoulder. Hermione laid there with bated breath, not sure if her shivering was due to the chilly night air or Draco’s airy touch. 

 

“Me too,” he murmured. “I’m glad you’re the only one, I mean.” 

 

With her heart pounding in her chest and every part of her shaking, Hermione leaned forward hesitantly. The distance between them grew smaller as his hand came to rest on her side and he leaned forward slightly. There was a tingling sensation coursing from the top of her head to the tips of her toes as their lips met. Neither of them rushed; their lips moved slowly over one another. Hermione curled a hand around the nape of his neck, catching a tuft of blonde hair. Draco inhaled deeply and tugged her closer. Their teeth knocked together from the sudden movement and both leaned back to wince in pain. 

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. She noticed the pink in his cheeks and wondered if it was from the kissing or embarrassment. 

 

“Don’t be,” she whispered reassuringly and with a surge of courage, she kissed the tip of his nose. 

 

“This is all I can think about lately,” he admitted, his eyes cast down at the blanket between them. “ _ You  _ are all I can think about lately. I’ve never been more confused in my entire life.”

 

In that moment, Hermione thought her heart was going to explode. She, Hermione Granger, was all Draco could think about. He looked up at her then, his eyes filled with fear and his features drenched in uncertainty, but when he saw that she was grinning widely at him, relief flooded over him. She watched his face soften and his muscles relax. She knew very well that she thought about him all the time, it had been that way for a while now, though she couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment. It was bloody confusing, because according to everyone else, she shouldn’t have these feelings for Draco Malfoy, and if one were to judge another by their less than pleasant past, she definitely shouldn’t want to kiss or spend hours lying under the stars with Draco. She shouldn’t want to comfort him or study with him or pass notes back and forth, but she did. 

 

“I can hardly focus on anything these days,” she told him, her voice shaking slightly. With a small laugh and shake of her head she added, “In all my years of education, nothing has distracted me. And then you come along. So if I don’t do well on my exams this year,” she warned jokingly. “I’m blaming you.” 

 

Draco chuckled and brushed away a stray hair that had fallen on her cheek. “I don’t mind that one bit.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was thankful she had free period Friday morning, as she and Draco had not returned from the Astronomy tower until almost one in the morning. They had kissed a bit more after she told him he would be to blame for any poor exam results she would receive, and in the end, she’d left the tower with her jumper slightly wrinkled, her hair most likely a mess and her lips swollen. Her housemates had mercifully been asleep when she quietly entered the girls’ dormitory, and her eyes had drifted shut the moment her head hit the pillow. 

 

She hadn’t woken up in time to go to breakfast and had to sit through her first three classes with a rumbling stomach. Harry asked her why she hadn’t come to breakfast and she had avoided his question by asking why he  _ was  _ awake for breakfast when he too had a free period that morning. He had merely shrugged and told her he just happened to be awake, so she retorted with the fact that she had just happened to be asleep. 

 

By the time lunch arrived, Hermione was positively starving. The moment she, Harry and Ron sat down, her eyes drifted to the Slytherin table. When she didn’t see Draco anywhere among the Slytherins, her heart sunk. _Please don’t let this mean he’s disappeared again_ , she thought to herself. Unfortunately for her, she would have no idea if Draco was actually present or not until last period Potions. 

 

In between each class following lunch, Hermione scoured the corridors for any sign of Draco. During her free period, she checked the library and had been on her way to check the Room of Requirement when she came across two third year Hufflepuffs suspended on lamp holders, thanks to Peeves.

 

Her efforts proved to find Draco futile in the end, as he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Hermione bit her lip in thought as she headed to the dungeons for Potions, with every bit of her hoping that Draco would be there. 

 

All through Potions, Hermione snuck glances at the doors in hopes that Draco would turn up late. One look at Draco’s usual table, told her his disappearance didn’t go unnoticed by his housemates.  _ Where was he? _

 

After classes had ended that day, Hermione secluded herself to their usual table in the back of the library, and for once, she wasn't there to study. She was there to think. If Draco wasn't anywhere else in the castle, that most likely meant he was in the Room of Requirement, and who knew how long he would be gone this time. He still hadn't told her what he did in the Room; all she knew is that it was tearing him to pieces. That was when the thought popped into her head. A small gasp escaped her lips as she stood abruptly from her chair. She knew someone else that had supposedly been talking to a troubled boy…

 

Now all she had to do was find Moaning Myrtle. 

  
  



	25. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by oeuvre24 and don't forget, she is posting on FF.Net 
> 
> Thank you guys as always for your love and reviews! They're always a pleasure to read and put a smile on our faces.

Hermione dreaded having to go to the first floor bathroom to talk to Myrtle, but she knew it was something she had to do. She had to know if it truly was Draco that had been crying in the bathroom and confiding in the ghost, and if so, if he had deluged in what he’d been so distraught over. 

 

Over the years, Hermione had come to avoid Myrtle like the plague. Ever since her incident with Millicent Bullstrode’s cat hair in second year, and having Myrtle laugh at her, she had stayed clear of the first floor bathroom and as a result had only seen the ghost a few times in the past four years. Hermione could only hope that Myrtle had forgotten about the Polyjuice issue, but then again, ghost or not, who  _ would _ forget that?

 

The halls weren’t that busy as everyone was in their common rooms before dinner, Hermione assumed, so entering the first year bathroom and checking it was empty before locking the door, turned out to be easier than she had anticipated. “Myrtle?” She called out and slowly walked to the row of stalls. There was no answer, but she waited. “It’s Hermione Granger,” she said after a minute, “I’d like to ask you something if that’s okay?”

 

A splash sounded, and from one cubicle door, Myrtle appeared. The ghost stopped and looked at Hermione before realising just exactly who she was. “What do  _ you _ want from me?” Myrtle asked in her horribly whiny voice. “I’m afraid if you’re after cat-nip, I don’t have any,” she smirked and glided towards the sinks.

 

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to avoid spitting out a cruel retort. She turned to look at the ghost before clearing her throat. “Harry and Ron told me that you said there was a boy who came to the bathroom to cry,” she said, “I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

 

“Why?” Myrtle demanded. “Didn’t your little friends’ questions satisfy you? Didn’t they insult me enough?” She wailed.

 

“I don’t know why they did that,” Hermione assured her, although she could place galleons on the fact that Ron most likely made a comment about Myrtle’s mortality. “I’d just like to know about the boy that confides in you,” she said. “Is he Draco Malfoy?”

 

Myrtle floated away from her and then turned back, her eyes were magnified by her large glasses as she peered at Hermione. “What if it was? Why should I tell you? He trusts  _ me _ .”

 

“And he trusts me too,” Hermione assured the girl. “I’m… I’m his best friend,” she said.

 

The ghost laughed dryly and swooped closer to Hermione. “Then why hasn’t he told you himself? If you’re supposedly best friends, shouldn’t you know each other’s secrets?” Hermione didn’t have an answer, and knew that Myrtle could tell, so she held her ground firmly.

 

“Please tell me,” Hermione said. “I’ll be able to help him better if I know.”

 

Myrte stared at her and sighed dramatically. “His family,” she answered simply, and grabbed the hems of her robe to swish them around her lower legs. “He’s worried for them. He needs to do something which he isn’t capable of. That’s all he says, and you won’t tell him that I told you.”

 

Hermione breathed out in relief. “Thank you so much, I won’t tell him at all,” she said and turned to rush out of the bathroom.

 

“If you tell him and he stops visiting, you’ll be sorry Miss Kitty!” Myrtle shouted after Hermione, but she’d already unlocked the door and was fast on her way to the seventh floor. She was convinced that Draco was in the Room, and she told herself she’d wait as long as she had to until he came out.

 

Hers legs were burning when she finally reached the seventh floor after quickly climbing many stairs to get there. She hadn’t passed many people, which she was grateful for, but knew that soon the halls would be filled with students and Professors all heading down to the Great Hall to eat dinner. She could only hope that Draco would reveal himself quickly so she could convince him to meet with her that night. Knowing that he was getting upset over his family situation only made her more worried for him, and made her wonder why he would rather speak to Moaning Myrtle about it rather than herself.

 

The corridor ahead of her was clear, and Hermione sped up into a jog to round the corner and get to the familiar stretch of wall, and when she did, she stopped dead in her tracks. On the opposite end of the corridor, stood Tonks, looking just as confused as Hermione, because between them was a sight that the both of them surely were not expecting to see. Harry stood near the wall, half covered by his invisibility cloak, and was leaning down holding his foot, wincing in pain.

 

“Harry?” Hermione asked at the very same time that Tonks asked the same.

 

He lifted his head and the cloak fell to a heap on the ground and he looked first to his left. “Hermione?” He asked in confusion and then looked the other way. “Tonks? What… What are you both doing here?”

 

“What are  _ you _ doing here, Harry?” Hermione questioned and her eyes narrowed when she realised where he stood: directly in front of where the door to the Room of Requirement would reveal itself.

 

“I was walking,” Harry responded, though she could see from the look on his face that he knew he’d been caught out trying to get into the Room. “Tonks?” He turned to the other witch, “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

 

Hermione looked at Tonks and walked forward to stand by Harry, and she picked up his cloak for him.

 

“I came to see Dumbledore,” Tonks said, and Hermione could clearly see now from being so close, how tired and...sad she looked.

 

“His office isn’t around this side,” Harry said, his voice softer as if he too was just coming to realise that something was wrong.

 

“We can take you there?” Hermione suggested. “It’s not that far.”

 

“I know where it is,” Tonks assured them. “I was a student here, remember?” She said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes as it normally would. “Professor Dumbledore isn’t here, I was told. I thought I’d just take a walk around for a while.”

 

“He’s away again?” Harry questioned, and Hermione furrowed her brows too. Thinking back, it had been a rather long time since she had seen their headmaster. “Do you know where he’s going?” Harry asked.

 

“Can’t help you there,” Tonks said. “And even if I did know, I wouldn’t be allowed to tell the both of you.”

 

Hermione understood, but couldn’t help wonder what Dumbledore was doing as he disappeared from the school in such troubled times. “What did you want to see him about?” She asked, hoping that she wasn’t overstepping any boundaries.

 

“Nothing in particular,” the other witch shrugged. “I’ve just been hearing some things… There’s a lot been happening…”

 

“We’ve been reading the Prophet. It’s quite scary, really,” Hermione admitted.

 

“The Prophet’s behind in a lot of what’s going on,” Tonks said and then looked at Harry. “Have you heard anything from any Order members?”

 

Harry seemed rather taken aback by the question, but shook his head. “No one writes to me,” he said. “The only person that did was Sirius--” Hermione reached out and pinched Harry’s arm when Tonks turned her head slightly and lifted her hand up, brushing some tears from her cheeks. “I-I’m sorry,” Harry said quickly. “I mean, I miss him too, and--”

 

“What?” Tonks asked, looking at them both again and Hermione had to fight to keep her expression neutral. “I should be going,” she said. “It was nice to see you both.” Without another word, she turned abruptly and walked back the way she had come from, leaving Harry and Hermione wondering what exactly had occurred.

 

Hermione turned to look at Harry once Tonks was out of sight. “What was that all about?” She asked, completely forgetting the whole reason she had come to the seventh floor in the first place.

 

“I have no idea…” Harry said, and the both of them turned to take the familiar walk back to the portrait of the Fat Lady. “Maybe it’s because I mentioned Sirius. He was her cousin after all.”

 

“But she seemed distant before you mentioned him,” Hermione reminded him. “Like she’s not in the right state of mind.”

 

“That isn’t good, mind you,” he said and then spoke the password to the Fat Lady when they reached her. “If she’s meant to be keeping guard, she needs to be aware of everything going on, not spacing out all of the time.”

 

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and followed Harry through the portrait hole. “We should tell Ron,” she said, knowing their friend would want to hear about what had happened.

 

“We will,” Harry agreed. “Just once he’s a little less...occupied,” he said and glanced at the staircase leading to the boy’s dormitory. “I left without him because Lavender decided to pay him a visit.”

 

Hermione wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I don’t want to hear about it,” she said, not needing to know what Ron and his girlfriend were up to.

 

“Good,” Harry said with a laugh. “We could head down to dinner early?” He suggested.

 

“That sounds like a good idea. I’m starving,” she agreed and they turned to head back out of the common room. They had just reached the fourth floor when Hermione suddenly remembered the whole reason as to why she’d been near the Room of Requirement which led to her bumping into Harry and Tonks. “Harry… I know why you were on the seventh floor before Tonks appeared,” she said, glancing over at him.

 

“I know you do,” Harry sighed and scratched the nape of his neck. “I need to know what he’s up to. I know it’s something bad.”

 

“No you don’t,” Hermione said, keeping her tone non-argumentative. The last thing either of them needed was to have a row. “You think it’s something bad.”

 

“We saw him in Borgin and Burkes,” he reminded her.

 

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Hermione said, her stomach sinking as she remembered back to that moment which felt like it was so much longer ago. “You can have your thoughts and suspicions, Harry, but don’t say it as if it’s fact. None of us know what Malfoy’s doing, and he’s not done anything bad, so… I think you should just leave it.”

 

“I know, I know,” he sighed once more. “More important things, and all that bollocks.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s not that,” she said. The bell rang when they arrived on the second floor, and she was very much ready to have some dinner. “Have you had any thoughts on how to get Slughorn’s memory?” She asked.

 

“No…” Harry said and then groaned. “Why can’t we just have a normal year at this school?” He asked, making her laugh.

 

“Because that would be too easy.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione’s worry over Draco increased as she hadn’t seen at all during breakfast or lunch on Sunday. She couldn’t believe that he’d disappeared so soon after what they had shared in the Astronomy Tower, and needed to talk to him. Knowing that he was for certain the boy that had been visiting Myrtle and crying to her, Hermione needed to let him know that she could help. There had to be some way that she could. Of course, he had spoken to her before, briefly albeit, about his father being in prison, but somehow, she knew that it was coming to be a more deeper issue than just that…

 

She walked with Harry and Ron down to dinner that night, with Ginny and Dean a few steps ahead of them. Harry had a stupid smile on his face every time she brushed her boyfriend’s hand away from hers, and Ron was glaring daggers at them. Hermione rolled her eyes at the boys’ dramatics, and was about to distract them with a question, when she almost stopped in her tracks. They weren’t the only students arriving at the Great Hall for dinner -- in fact, they were almost shoulder-to-shoulder with others as they made their way towards the doors --, but that didn’t stop Hermione from spotting Draco arrive a few steps behind his housemates.

 

She easily caught his eye and watched his expression lift from the sad, solemn look he’d had before. “ _ Wait _ ,” she mouthed to him and he nodded once. “I’ll come to dinner in a few minutes, I just need to do something before I forget,” she said to Harry and grabbed his arm.

 

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded and carried on into the hall with Ron.

 

Hermione turned back and walked against the flow of people, and headed back up the main staircase, knowing there would be somewhere she and Draco could talk privately -- a classroom, or somewhere else. She walked slowly to make sure she didn’t get too far, and watched as the last several students headed to the staircase to make their way to dinner, until finally, she was the only person left in the hallway. She looked around and spotted a heavy hanging tapestry, and tried her luck to see what was behind it. She grinned when it revealed a small alcove, and stepped inside and peered through the small gap waiting for Draco to arrive.

 

She smiled when she heard footsteps and was just about to reveal herself when a figure passed by the tapestry. Luckily, just as she was about to step out, she saw that the figure was Professor Babbling, and it would be hard for her to explain to her teacher just why she was hiding in an alcove when every other person in the castle was having dinner. The Professor disappeared, leaving Hermione to wait and hope that Draco had actually seen her go upstairs, and wasn’t waiting for her anywhere else. She was close to giving up hope on him coming to see her, but that thought left quickly when she heard him call out her name cautiously. “Granger?”

 

Hermione pulled back the tapestry and saw him a few metres down the hall, and waved him forward. “Quick, hide in here so we won’t be seen,” she said and moved back to give him some room. After he came in and made sure the tapestry covered the entrance, she looked at him. “Where have you been?” She whispered.

 

“You know,” he answered with a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry, but I needed to.”

 

“Yes, you seem to  _ need  _ to do a lot more lately,” she retorted. “I didn’t think you would have gone after…”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said again and his hand came to rest on her forearm. “I am, but just because we’re doing...this, doesn’t mean that I can stop what needs to be done.”

 

She pursed her lips and looked at the ground.  _ This _ , she thought.  _ What exactly is ‘this’. _ “And you were there all day too?” She assumed, and she watched him nod. “Didn’t you think of giving me a little bit of warning?”

 

The guilt was clear on his face, and he looked away towards the tapestry. “You can’t be involved in this,” he said, using the line he had taken to speaking quite often.

 

“So you’ve said,” she breathed and lifted her hand up to place her fingers on his chin and turn his head to look at her again. “Harry almost caught you today,” she said, letting her arm fall. “I caught him outside the Room of Requirement under his invisibility cloak. What would have happened if he managed to get in and I wasn’t there to stop him?” She demanded.

 

“Well he didn’t get in,” Draco answered and she was about to argue, but stopped when she felt his fingers find hers. “Don’t worry about me,” he told her, and squeezed her fingers once.

 

“It’s too late for that,” she muttered under her breath, and then the two of them fell silent. She could hear him breathing, and she curled her fingers tighter between his. “Can we go to our Room after dinner?” She asked quietly.

 

He didn’t respond at first, and she waited for what might be another rejection. He took her by surprise when he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to hers once, in a kiss that was so quick she could barely register it. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” he murmured and she could feel his lips brush against her with every syllable he spoke.

 

She brought her other hand up to his shoulder and moved her head forward to kiss him properly and felt her cheeks warm up. When they kissed this time, she noticed that it hadn’t started as clumsily as their kisses in the past had. She felt his tongue run along her bottom lip, and she pulled back, letting out a breath. “We can’t,” she said, and when she looked up at him and saw his expression, she quickly added, “Not now, at least. We can’t go into dinner looking like we’ve been snogging.”

 

He let out a quiet laugh and then stood up straight. “You go first,” he said. “I’ll head down to the kitchens to eat. People would notice your absence more than mine,” he told her and slowly pulled back the tapestry and looked both ways before opening it wider.

 

“I’ll go to our Room as soon as I’ve finished eating,” she assured him, and let her fingers untangle from his and quickly slipped out from the alcove, and quickly made her way to the Great Hall.

 

* * *

 

“Did you do what you needed to?”

 

“Hm?” Hermione asked, looking at Harry after she’d sat down.

 

Harry furrowed his brows and gave her a strange look. “Did you end up doing what you ran off to do?” He asked her again.

 

“Oh!” Hermione said, remembering that she had in fact given Harry and Ron an excuse before separating from them. “Yes, I did, but not fully… I’ll actually have to go finish it off once I’ve eaten.”

 

“Surely homework can wait, Hermione,” Harry said.

 

“Mate, this is Hermione, remember?” Ron said through a mouthful of broccoli, and Hermione rolled her eyes at him while Harry laughed.

 

“It could wait any other time, but I need to do this before it leaves my mind,” she made up an excuse and began to put some food on her plate to eat. If she was quick, she and Draco would be able to spend more time in their Room together before they’d have to leave before curfew; it wouldn’t do good to risk being caught together.

 

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Harry said.

 

“Yeah,” Ron chimed in. “We’ve not even got exams yet. Save the craziness for then.”

 

Hermione smiled but shook her head. “This is important for me to do,” she said. The three of them fell into easy conversation, with Hermione taking more of a backseat as she focused on eating quickly. When she felt full enough and had finished what was on her plate, she stood up from the bench and said goodbye to her friends and left the Hall. Climbing up all the stairs to get to the seventh floor made her wish that whatever founder decided on constructing the Room, had built it on the first floor instead. She was out of breath by the time she got to the Room of Requirement, and thought of her and Draco’s room and walked in front of the wall until the solid door appeared and she entered.

 

She raised an eyebrow when she entered and spotted Draco lying upon a large four poster bed, his back against the headboard; obviously he had wished it to appear as it hadn’t been a normal feature in their Room since the day she had thought to conjure it when he’d arrived several weeks ago looking like he would fall asleep at the drop of a hat. “You look comfortable,” she said and walked further into the room.

 

“I’m not insinuating anything,” he said quickly, swinging his legs off the bed. “Promise,” he added with a small smile, and she knew she could believe him.

 

Hermione chewed the inside of her lip as she made her way to the couch. How could she bring up something so serious when he seemed so...happy. At ease. It almost seemed cruel. She toed off her shoes before she made her way to the couch and sat down with her legs curled beneath her, and she looked back at Draco. “Could you come sit down?” She asked and she instantly saw his expression falter.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked as he walked over too, taking off his shoes as well. 

 

“Yes,” she nodded and when he gave her a look, she gave him a small smile. “Promise,” she repeated him from earlier. He sat down on the couch and she watched as he placed his hand on her knee, and she knew it would make it harder for her to have this conversation with him if he was so willing to listen and sit with her without knowing what was coming. “We need to talk about something… And I think you might try to get out of this conversation, but I really hope you don’t.” She finished and let out a sharp breath and then met his eyes, almost afraid of what she’d see.

 

Gone was the smile from his face, instead replaced with a solemn expression, his brow slightly drawn and his jaw taut. “What is it?” He asked.

 

Hermione had prepared what she’d say to him beforehand. She wouldn’t betray Myrtle’s trust, as in doing so, she would be jeopardising Draco’s own stress relief through venting to her, which he wouldn’t be able to do if he knew she had spilled his secrets. “The other day, Harry and Ron told me that Myrtle mentioned something about a boy coming to the bathroom,” she said and watched his eyes widen slightly before he cooled his composure. “And she said that the boy had been crying.”

 

She paused, not saying anything until Draco did. He cleared his throat took his hand off her knee. “Poor guy, having to confide in that whiny brat…” He said with a breath of a laugh that lacked humour. He stared at the space between them and Hermione bit the inside of her cheek.

 

“I know it was you,” she said, her voice coming out much quieter than she had wanted it to. “That night when I was doing rounds, and we ran into each other? I knew you had been crying,” she said. “And I think we should talk about it.”

 

“Why?” Draco asked sharply. “Why do you think you can fix anything?”

 

Hermione sat up straighter, having expected an outburst of some kind from him, but didn’t reach out to touch him; she understood that he needed space. “Just because problems don’t always have easy solutions doesn’t make them any less important to talk about,” she told him. “I may not be able to do anything directly, but you can  _ talk _ to me about it, Draco. You don’t need to hide out and confide in Myrtle.” 

 

Draco’s eyes snapped up to hers. “Why do you want to be involved? I’ve told you so many times that you shouldn’t.”

 

“And I’ve told _ you _ that it’s too late now,” she replied surely. “I don’t know what you want to believe, or think, but the fact is that we’re close. You said I was your best friend, for Merlin’s sake. Let me in; nothing bad is going to happen,” she all but pleaded. 

 

His fist curled into the fabric of his trousers and he looked away again with his jaw tensed. “I don’t want you hurt…” He bit out and his hand relaxed before he tore his fingers through his hair. “Why can’t any of this be fucking  _ easy _ ?” He spat.

 

She was rather taken aback by that, and reached her hand up to take his away from his head, and his fingers immediately curled between her own, holding her hand tightly. “Is it about your parents?” She asked tentatively. “I know you’ve told me some of what’s going on, before, but...things like that don’t go away easily.”

 

He was quiet again, and didn't answer at first but nodded. She felt terrible for him, seeing the pain that was evident on his face. She couldn't even imagine how he felt. She'd always had a good relationship with her own parents and loved them dearly; she’d do anything to keep them safe. It was obvious that Draco held his parents in a very high regard, and Hermione knew that having his father in prison wasn't making his feelings any easier to process. 

 

“I've always looked up to my father,” he said after a few moments. “I know you think I probably shouldn't,” he added and looked at her. She didn't say anything; she wouldn't try giving him her opinion during this time. “But you don't know about him, really. He'd kill me if I ever told you what he was really like,” he added with a soft laugh before his smile dropped. “Figuratively,” he added quickly. 

 

Hermione couldn't help but smile at that. “I know what you mean,” she assured him. It shocked her to hear that there was a different side to Lucius Malfoy, one that only Draco -- and his mother, most likely -- had seen. She had to remember that there could always be a side to someone she didn't see, but after the skirmish in the Department of Mysteries the year before, she was unwilling to think anything more of Lucius Malfoy than him being a ruthless Death Eater.

 

“I don't  _ want  _ to look up to him now,” Draco continued, staring down at his lap. “Who idolises someone who’s in prison?” He asked bitterly. “Idiots, that's who. And I can't bring myself to hate him. Even though he's locked away for almost--” He cut himself off and shut his mouth, clenching his teeth tightly together.

 

“No-one can expect you to feel differently about him,” Hermione said softly. “He’s your father, in the end, to you, no matter what he’s done. It’s alright to feel the way that you do.” She hoped with everything in her that what she was saying was correct. She knew for a fact, that if her own dad was ever imprisoned, she would love him just the same, and find it hard to think anything completely different of him. Regardless of any logical reasons that may present themselves, Hermione knew her heart would always lead over her head, so it was easier for her to begin to understand Draco’s reasoning.

 

“I hate what he got himself into,” Draco said bitterly after a pregnant silence between them. “I hate it, Granger,” he said tersely and rest his elbows down onto his knees. 

 

She didn't know what to say, but placed her hand on his shoulder, clearly noticing how his muscle was taut and as tight as a rock from stress. She hated what his father had done, too, and what he was involved with, but she didn't say a word about it. This was Draco’s time to vent, and she wouldn't hijack that by spewing her own opinions on the matter. The both of them were quiet for a long time, and when ten minutes passed, she finally spoke. “I think some tea’s in order,” she said, her voice quiet, and a few seconds later, a silver tray with a pot of tea and two mugs appeared on the coffee table in front of them. 

 

She looked at Draco and saw his lips quirk up slightly. “When in doubt, summon tea, isn't that right?” He humoured which made her smile. 

 

“Tea fixes anything,” she said surely and poured the liquid into the two mugs. 

 

“I know what else would, in this situation,” he said and when she looked back, she saw the faintest hint of colour on his cheekbones. When his gaze dropped to her lips, she realised what he had meant, and bit the inside of her cheek. “If you'd like to,” he added, seeing her hesitation. 

 

Of course Hermione wanted to kiss him -- she thought about it much more often than she ever thought she would -- but after what they had just spoken about, she didn't feel it was the right moment… Just then, at least.

 

“Why don't we stick to our tea,” she said, albeit with ounce of awkwardness, and she picked up one mug to hand it to him. She took her own and sat back, and they both sat quiet, and Hermione realised neither of them had brought their book bags along, so there would be no excuse to do homework. 

 

Her eyes fell to his fingers as he slowly drummed them against the side of his mug. She wondered to herself at what point she had really started watching his hands, and figured it had most likely been during the long hours of study they had completed together, back when he’d been falling behind in his classes to the degree of having to serve detentions. It was hard not to look at his fingers, really. He held a grace and finesse in the way he did things, like using a quill, holding his wand...running his fingers up and down her arms…

 

“What did I miss in Potions?” His question broke the quiet between them and she snapped her eyes back up to his face, but knew that he’d noticed her staring.

 

“Not much,” she said. “It was only theory work, just brushing up on some things… I was a little preoccupied in wondering where you were though,” she admitted.

 

“Mm…” he hummed and took a drink of tea.

 

“Your housemates seemed to be wondering too,” Hermione added. “Do any of them know?” She asked. “That you come here, that is.”

 

Draco shook his head. “Not for a lack of trying,” he scoffed. “Honestly, I have to restrain myself from hexing the lot of them to shut them up.”

 

Hermione pursed her lips at that. “They care about you, Draco. That’s all; they’re worried.”

 

“They have a funny way of showing it.”

 

“Not everyone’s going to show their concern the same way,” she said.

 

The corner of his lips curled up into a half-smile. “You like to assure me that people are worried about me,” he said, and met her eyes.

 

She gave him a soft smile and a small shrug of her shoulder. “Everyone needs to know that they’re cared about. In any sense of the word.”

 

The other side of his lips curled up and he put his mug of tea on the coffee table. “Do people tell you enough?” He asked and leaned back into the couch with one arm along the back of it, his fingers close to where her head rest.

 

Hermione thought about his question. Harry was good to show his appreciation, as was Ron, but most often, the two of them only seemed to do that when she had done something for them. Of course, she got praise from her teachers, but praise was different to caring, in a way. “I think they do,” she answered him. “Probably not as often as I tell others,” she laughed quietly.

 

Draco let out a breath of a chuckle, and reached one finger out to wrap around some of her hair. “Well, I  _ guess _ I should tell you how I’ve come to care for you,” he drawled with a smirk.

 

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t strain yourself too much.”

 

“Good idea,” he laughed and then moved closer to her. The hand from which his finger was curled in her hair, moved to cradle her head, and he dipped his head closer to hers. When their noses almost touched, his eyes darted down to her lips before back up to her eyes, in a silent question. She gave the slightest movement of a nod, and leaned forward at the same time he did, letting their lips come together in a kiss that had been waiting to happen since the brief peck they’d shared in the small alcove before dinner.

 

Almost on instinct, her hand came up to the side of his neck, needing something to hold onto; something to keep her grounded. She drew in a breath through her nose and didn’t know if she’d ever get over this feeling. There she was, kissing Draco, the boy who had come to mean so much to her, the boy who had came to care for her deeply too. She had never expected to become this fond of him; really, she hadn’t ever expected to become friends with him in any sense of the word. It was funny how even though life seemed to be throwing curveballs left, right and centre, and the world was starting to flip onto its head, full of disaster and tragedy, the both of them had been able to find solace in each other, in something so unexpected.

 

She knew how important it was for the two of them to have each other. She didn’t know how she would have coped with half of the things she’d endured since the start of sixth year if she didn’t have Draco to fall back on. Even when their encounters had only just began, he had listened to her -- rather reluctantly, but he had listened nonetheless --, and as the feelings between them changed, he had started to express more to her too. She remembered back to the first few times he had smiled in front of her, properly and fully smiled, letting it reach his eyes in the way that now made her grin and her stomach twist in such a delightful way she’d never felt before… Before  _ him _ . Her mind drifted back to the first time she’d cried to him, and then to the first hug they’d shared… She thought of the first time he’d cried in front of her, and the time he had felt so safe in her presence that he’d slept, finding  _ her _ to be the only person to help him get the peace he so desperately wanted.

 

Everything seemed to overwhelm her on the inside, until both her hands came to his cheeks and she pulled back. Her breathing was ragged as she stared at him, her eyes slightly wider than normal. His hand came up to her forearm as he stared back at her, his brows slightly starting to furrow in confusion over her reaction, and her fingers curled softly, her thumbs against the sharp angles of his cheekbones. She couldn’t think straight; she couldn’t get a word out of her mouth even if she had wanted to… She just wanted him. Just  _ him _ .

 

She pushed up onto her knees, moving closer to him as she did so, and pulled his face up to hers, meeting his lips in such a way that she’d be embarrassed to think about later. It was hard, and like nothing she’d ever done before; she’d never thought she could be this bold. He responded instantly to the kiss, and his hands felt warm and hard against her sides, sliding under her jumper to press against the cotton of her shirt. Hermione had known that kissing could be like this, after all she had wished for it in the future from the quiet of her mind before any of this had happened with Draco, but had never known it would be like this. All she could think was that she never wanted to forget this moment.

 

Her lips parted and she let out a shaky breath when she felt his fingers tug at the side of her shirt, and then suddenly, his touch was on her, and it burnt her skin in the best way possible. One hand came to his shoulder to balance herself, and their lips parted for the briefest of moments as she moved one leg over to the other side of his legs and settled herself down on his thighs. His fingers danced along her waist, and she tried to memorise the feeling, along with his lips against her own, and his tongue sliding against hers in a way that  _ worked _ . She could feel his sharp breaths against her lips every time they pulled back for breath, and when their lips met after, it was always harder than before. Her hands slid from his cheeks up into his hair, and she twisted her fingers into the normally so perfectly positioned strands, musing them up under her touch.

 

When she felt his fingertips against her ribs, her eyes opened and she pulled back slightly, and he moved forward trying to chase her lips. “Draco…” She breathed quietly, so softly she hardly heard it herself. It didn’t even sound like her own voice.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice just as quiet. All breath she’d had left the instant he pressed his lips under her jaw. She hadn’t known it would feel like  _ that _ .

 

“N-Nothing,” she managed to say. “It’s just… We…” Her words melted into thin air when she felt his index fingers make their way to her sternum, just beneath the bottom of her bra.

 

His lips left her neck and he looked up at her. “Not yet?” He asked, and the softness of his voice and the genuine question he’d asked of her made her want to kiss him and not come up for air.

 

The question did make her think, though. She had known for a long time that her feelings for Draco were deeper than friendship, and since their first kiss, they had spent a considerable time with their lips together, but she hadn’t really imagined anything progressing from there. She’d felt his hands wander when they’d kissed previously, and her own hands had too, gripping his jumper, or shoulders or hair, where he seemed to hold her cheeks, or her hips. She could not deny that it felt amazing, and from the reaction she’d had to his touch on her bare skin, she knew that taking it one step further wouldn’t be as daunting as she had once thought.

 

Draco’s lips ghosted against her jaw, jolting her back to knowing she had to answer his question. “Yes,” she whispered. “I mean, no, well, we can… Do it now, I mean,” she stammered. His breath of laugh puffed against her neck and she kissed his lips once more before he could see how red her cheeks had become. She relaxed more against his thighs, and didn’t know what to concentrate on when his hands moved upwards under her shirt and his tongue teased her bottom lip.

 

Everything that he did was gentle. She knew, from what she’d thought of his hands before, and feeling the way he touched her now, that he was treating her as if she was delicate. Breakable. It was the opposite of course. It seemed that now when she was with him, she became the complete opposite of breakable.

 

She gasped and let out a sharp breath when one of his hands took the weight of her breast, and her own hand dropped from his hair to clutch at his shoulder. She hadn’t expected  _ that _ feeling, but found herself pushing forward, as if her body was acting on pure instinct now,  _ needing _ to get closer to him. When she realised that their lips were still parted, she quickly remedied the situation and pressed their lips back together. That didn’t last long at all when his other hand moved upwards, enclosing his hand around her other breast which caused a delightful swooping in the bottom of her stomach, and made her pull back from the kiss just to breathe.

 

Every time he moved his hand, or brushed his thumbs against her, he elicited another gasp until she was gripping at his shoulders tugging her fingers through the short strands of hair on the nape of his neck. She really couldn’t believe at all that it was her and Draco doing this, and she knew she ought to have tried more to kiss him back, or move her hands more, but she seemed frozen in spot, never wanting him to stop; completely selfish for his touch.

 

When a few minutes passed, Hermione came more to her senses, and dropped her hands to his forearms and slowly pushed his arms down. He didn’t fight it and tilted his head up to look at her and she gave a small, embarrassed laugh when she saw the grin on his face, the slight swelling of his lips, and the red of his cheeks.

 

“Well, what do you know...” Draco laughed softly and raised a hand to her face to gently brush back some curls that had fallen forward.

 

“What?” She asked, still mumbling in slight embarrassment over what had happened; although she knew she’d do it all again in a heartbeat and wasn’t ashamed in any way.

 

“You never cease to surprise me, Granger,” he said, and then leaned forward to kiss her jaw once more.

 

_ Alright _ , Hermione reasoned,  _ Maybe a few more minutes won’t be  _ too _ bad. _


	26. Turbulence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me! 
> 
> We just want to take a quick second and reassure people that this will remain a Dramione fic, as there's been a few concerns about them not ending up together. And secondly, we've diverged from canon a bit to include the Easter Holidays. We know the story is slow moving at this point, but it will pick up again once we drift back to canon events, which will be soon anyway. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and leaving comments! We truly appreciate your love and support <3 
> 
> Don't forget to check out the story on ff.net (posted by oeuvre24) and follow us on tumblr (@avdubs and @hexrmionegranger)

The start of April brought fresh showers, which though the grounds appreciated, the students of Hogwarts did not. The last thing Hermione wanted to do when her eyes fluttered open was escape the warmth of her bed. Lavender and Parvati must have already left or were still sleeping, as Hermione couldn’t hear their usual giggly whisperings. The rain continued to slash against the windows as she snuggled into her covers, the sound almost lulling her back to sleep, but one glance at the clock on her bedside table told her she needed to get up and head to breakfast if she wanted to get to class on time. It was only when she was fully dressed for the day and had her bag slung over her shoulder that she realized Potions was her first class of the day. The corner of her lips quirked upwards and her stomach fluttered at the thought of seeing Draco first thing that morning. 

 

When she entered the common room, she found Harry and Ron sitting by the fire playing a game of Wizard’s chess. 

 

“Morning,” she greeted. “Ready for breakfast?” 

 

“‘Bout time you woke up,” Ron said with a smile as he and Harry abandoned their game and joined her in the middle of the common room. 

 

“You could go to breakfast without me, you know,” she pointed out. The three of them climbed out of the portrait hole, side-by-side, and headed for the Great Hall. Harry hadn’t said anything since she came down to the common room, which she found rather odd. He’d usually at least say good morning to her. Ron seemed to be aware of Harry’s sullen mood as he was walking quite close to him and kept casting worried looks his way. “Harry?” Hermione asked as they descended a flight of stairs. “Everything alright?” 

 

He was silent for a moment before he inhaled sharply and scrunched up his features. “I just keep thinking about our run in with Tonks. She didn’t seem right when she found me on the train at the start of the year, and you were there this time, Hermione. You saw how different she seemed.” 

 

Hermione furrowed her brows. Tonks had seemed off; more distant. The older witch used to make Hermione laugh and she always felt that she could go to Tonks if she needed someone to talk to, but the Tonks she saw just a few days ago, wasn’t the one she’d come to know over the last two years. 

 

“Sirius was her cousin, Harry,” Ron interjected before Hermione could respond. “She’s probably just upset.” 

 

“Maybe,” Hermione mumbled as she sorted through her own thoughts. “But it could have something do with the war, or the Order.”

 

“Yeah well, none of them write to me, do they?” Harry said bitterly. “Not even Remus. So even if something  _ is _ going on, I wouldn’t have the faintest idea.” 

“Harry, I’m sure they’re just busy,” she assured him, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “I mean the Death Eaters aren’t exactly laying low, are they?” 

 

He didn’t respond and instead kept walking. They’d arrived at the Grand Staircase and from above, Hermione could see the Entrance Hall flooded with students, some heading into the Great Hall for breakfast and some just leaving. It was probably best that they drop the subject of Tonks for now anyway. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Hermione saw Draco leaving the Great Hall with Parkinson and Nott on either side of him. She silently cursed herself for not getting out of bed and heading to breakfast sooner. Draco’s gaze drifted over in her direction and when his eyes met hers, he gave a stiff nod and a small smile. Hermione lifted her chin ever so slightly and hoped that he had seen her acknowledgement. She watched Pansy tap his shoulder and scowl up at him and at that point Hermione returned her attention to weaving through the crowd of students. 

 

* * *

 

Aside from Harry’s less than cheerful mood, she’d been having a decent morning. Sure, she had missed Draco at breakfast, but she knew she would still see him in Potions, and hoped that after their Ancient Runes class they could go to their room. She made small talk with Ginny while they ate, and it wasn’t until the post arrived that her good mood was soiled. 

 

_ MUGGLE TOWN DESTROYED IN FIRE,  _ the headline read. The words glared up at Hermione, as her spoon hovered between her bowl of oatmeal and her mouth, and her heart sank to her stomach. It wasn’t anywhere near her parents, but it struck a chord in her. Was this going to become a new pattern for the Death Eaters? Would her parents’ neighbourhood end up being one of the ones the Death Eaters chose to destroy in the future? 

 

With several students pulled from school, and every disappearance and headline bearing more bad news, her worry for her parents safety grew. Harry shook his head and looked angry, Ron folded the Daily Prophet up and Ginny tried to change the subject to something more cheerful but Hermione wasn’t listening anymore. _My parents aren’t safe_ , She thought to herself, her appetite shrinking by the second. 

 

Hermione remained silent as the three of them headed to the dungeons for Potions. They arrived just in time as the bell rang. She glanced over at Draco, to find his back facing her. She sighed and took out her copy of Advanced Potion-Making, letting it fall onto the table with a thud. Professor Slughorn told them they would have a test the Tuesday following the Easter holidays and they would have the opportunity to begin studying during class today. 

 

Thankful that she was saved from having to learn new content, Hermione got out a fresh roll of parchment and opened to the first Potion Professor Slughorn had written on the blackboard. Not long after they started, Ron asked to look at her notes and she slid them to him without so much as a glance in his direction. When the class ended and she had taken notes on the theories and importance of particular ingredients on nearly every Potion that Slughorn had listed, and she swiftly packed up her things and reminded herself there were just two more periods separating her from Ancient Runes with Draco. As much as she loved Harry and Ron, they weren’t the best for comfort, and this was one of the rare times where she really needed it. 

 

She could barely focus on a word Professor Flitwick said in Charms and she’d gone back to the dormitory during break just to sit in silence. The article headline had really shaken her. It felt like a wake up call, a reminder that there were bigger things going on aside from snogging Draco, classes and studying. She’d gotten so caught up in everything going on with Draco and his situation, and the Prophet had been void of news this troublesome for a few weeks now, that her concern for parents well-being had been moved to the back burner. It would always be there, of course; she was a muggle-born witch living in the middle of a war that was determined on taking out her kind.

 

Hermione arrived to Ancient Runes with her head still clouded by intrusive thoughts and her heart sitting like a weight in her chest. Draco greeted her with a cheerful smile and moved his left foot to rest against her right under the table. She smiled wearily at him as she unpacked her belongings and he must have noticed her troubled expression as he had slid his hand under the table to squeeze her knee. 

 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered. 

 

She shook her head and put a finger to her lips. Professor Babbling had started her lecture and the last thing Hermione wanted to deal with right then was getting told off for disrupting a teacher. Draco rolled his eyes and waited while she wrote her reply on a piece of parchment. 

 

_ It’s not something I want to talk about right now. Can we go to the room after class?  _

 

_ Of course we can.  _ He wrote back. 

 

A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She crumpled the parchment and tucked it into her bag as there would be no opportunity for note passing during a lecture. For the duration of their lesson, his hand remained firmly on her knee, and for the first time since seeing the article headline that morning, she felt like she could breathe properly. 

 

* * *

 

Draco arrived to their room just a few minutes after she had to see that she had conjured the same bed he had a few days ago. She lay on top of the covers, facing away from him and stared out the magical window that mimicked the gloomy weather outside. 

 

She felt his weight on the bed as he laid down next to her. Slowly, she rolled over to face him, her lips pursed into a thin line and tears pricking at her eyes. Draco reached out to brush the hair away from her face and ran his fingers along her jaw before grabbing her chin and lifting her head to meet his eyes. 

 

“Talk to me, Granger,” he said softly, his pale gray eyes piercing hers. “What is it?” 

 

“Did you happen to see The Daily Prophet this morning?” she asked after remaining silent for a moment, the softness in her voice making her feel small. Fragile. 

 

Draco winced. “No, I didn’t.” 

 

Hermione cleared her throat and sat up to retrieve her bag where the recent copy of The Daily Prophet was tucked away, and pulled it out. The headline was front page, so she handed the paper to him as it was and watched with bated breath for his reaction. 

 

“It wasn’t my parents’ town,” she told him before he could jump to conclusions and assume the worst. “But--”

 

“You’re worried about them,” he said quietly, the paper clenched tightly in his hands. His eyes quickly scanned the article and she watched as his brows furrowed and his jaw sat as still as stone. 

 

“I always have been,” she said. “But after this…” her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to say outloud yet. If she said it outloud it would become real, and she didn’t want it to be real yet. 

 

Draco snuggled closer to her, so their bodies were touching and he draped an arm over her waist. His lips briefly met her forehead and when he pulled away, Hermione tilted her head so their foreheads were touching. 

 

“Tell me about them,” Draco whispered, his breath tickling her nose. “Your parents.” 

 

Hermione let out a breathy laugh. “Well, erm, they’re both dentists.” At the look of confusion on his face, she added with an involuntary giggle, “They’re like...teeth healers.”

 

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. “That sounds awfully unpleasant.”

 

“It is,” she said. “But it’s not always bad. If you have something serious done, you get a milkshake afterwards. Or at least, I always did.” 

 

His lips curved into an amused smile and she couldn’t help but smile in return. “Now that doesn’t sound so bad,” he mused. 

 

“My dad made the best homemade milkshakes,” she told him, recalling all the times her father would knock on her bedroom door, a strawberry milkshake in hand and a smile on his face. “Gods, I haven’t had one of his milkshakes in years.” 

 

“Tell me more,” he said, more confidently this time. 

 

And so she told him about their Christmas traditions, back when she still saw her parents over the Christmas holidays. She told him how she and her mum would spend the night before Christmas baking cookies and how her Grandmother would come over Christmas morning. She told him every single corny joke her dad had cracked, or rather the ones she could remember. Draco listened as she went on and on about her mum and dad until her lungs felt like they were on fire and she was forced to pause in her ramblings. 

 

“Sorry,” she mumbled after catching her breath. She had just talked for so long, but it had been refreshing, being able to talk without interruption. 

 

“Don’t apologize,” he told her gently. He reached out to brush her hair away again, but this time, his fingers lingered at the end of her curls. She smiled at him, the corners of her mouth curving slowly upwards. 

 

“Harry and Ron don’t even know this much about my parents,” she said thoughtfully. 

 

Draco frowned. “Really?” 

 

She nodded and readjusted herself as her arm was starting to fall asleep. “How is it that your two best friends don’t know that much about your parents?” 

 

Hermione shrugged. “They’ve met them on occasion -- in Diagon Alley mostly -- but it’s just not something we talk about. It’s not like we talk about Harry’s parents either, but that’s--”

 

“Understandable,” Draco finished for her.

 

She stopped, shocked at what he had said. Her smile grew wider, nearly reaching her eyes and she found herself wanting to jump and down in joy. She must have looked absolutely ridiculous as Draco was staring at her with a peculiar expression. “What?” he asked. 

 

“You empathized with Harry,” she said. 

 

“No I didn’t,” he said with a frown. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat up as he did so as well. “Yes, you did.” She leaned over quickly with one hand resting on his shoulder and placed a quick peck on his cheek. Draco let out a laugh and shook his head, his elbows resting on his knees. 

 

“Why are you laughing?” she asked. 

 

He paused and when he turned to look at her, she saw the faintest tint of pink covering his cheeks. “You look lovely when you get excited,” he mumbled so quietly she could hardly hear him. 

 

She could have melted on the spot, and for a moment, she thought she had. Any sort of response from her flew out the window. Draco was changing and she was watching it happen before her eyes. It felt like a gift, and one she’d grown to cherish. She wasn’t sure if she was simply unearthing this boy who’d been there underneath a hard, cold exterior all along, or if he was turning into someone new. 

 

“Tell me about your parents,” she said, nudging him with her knee. “What’s your mum like?” 

 

Draco was about to begin when the warning bell sounded. “Shit,” they both muttered before jumping off the bed and searching frantically for their shoes and bags. She felt a little guilty that she had spent so much time talking but her guilt would do her no good now. 

 

“Hey,” she called out as Draco had started for the door. “See you tomorrow for double Arithmancy?” 

 

He chuckled and grinned at her, his hand on the doorknob. “I wouldn’t miss it, Granger.” 

 

* * *

 

Hermione was in a slightly better mood after she left the room. When Ron had asked her during double Herbology why she was in such a good mood, she told him she felt better with most of her workload completed. It wasn’t true, of course. She hadn’t touched her homework during her free period, and she would most likely retreat to the library after dinner to squeeze in a few hours, but it was worth it.  _ It was so very worth it,  _ she thought to herself. 

 

As she’d promised to herself earlier, Hermione headed to the library after dinner. She made sure to bring her Potions book to continue reviewing, her Arithmancy book and notes, as well as her Transfiguration things. There weren’t many students in the library that evening; many of them had probably checked out mentally with the Easter holiday just three days away. Hermione sat at her usual table and pulled out all of her books, notes, three quills and a plethora of parchment. _Time to get to work_ , she told herself. 

 

She decided to tackle Transfiguration first since it was the class she was worried about the least, and she couldn’t exactly practice her non-verbal spells in the library anyway. She read through her notes and jotted down key points or important theories to memorize, sifting through roll of parchment after roll of parchment. It had felt like an eternity since she had been able to sit down and completely concentrate on her course work. Tackling her list item by item made her feel exhilarated, in control and productive. She truly missed throwing herself into her studies on a daily basis and forgetting the rest of the world. 

 

But like all good things, the energy she’d had earlier slowly began to fade as the early evening hours ticked by. Her concentration slipped away and she found her thoughts drifting to what it would be like to have a normal year at Hogwarts. After all, the closest she had ever come was the train ride to Hogwarts the start of their second year. Maybe she wouldn’t have to find so much solace in her studies. She could have more free time to spend with Harry and Ron and Ginny. She could fall asleep at night knowing only upcoming exams, Quidditch matches and Hogsmeade visits lie ahead. She could join clubs or mentor younger students. If there was no Voldemort, she wouldn’t have to worry about her parents safety so much. She could spend Saturday afternoons down at the Black Lake with her friends without a single worry…

 

“Miss Granger!” said a high pitched voice that could only belong to Madam Pince. “Miss Granger!” she said again. Hermione felt a sharp shove at her shoulder making her jolt upright in her seat. There was something long and feathery blocking her vision and when she reached up to her forehead to pluck it off, she saw it was her quill. She turned to look at Madam Pince with heavy eyes and an apologetic smile. 

 

“The library is closing,” Madam Pince said tersely, her hands on her hips. 

 

“Right,” Hermione said. “Sorry, I’ll pack up my things and go.”

 

“Quickly,” the librarian replied before going back to her desk. 

 

Hermione yawned and began shoving her belongings back into her bag. Her dreams had been pleasant, but they left an ache in her heart. They couldn’t have a normal year at Hogwarts with Voldemort still alive. As she trudged back to the common room, Hermione hoped and prayed that Harry would defeat him in the end. 

 

* * *

 

During Arithmancy the next day, she and Draco had agreed to meet in their Room after lunch. She ate quickly, wanting to get there as soon as she could and to get away from Lavender’s cooing as she fed Ron bits of her roast chicken. Harry hadn’t been to lunch and she wondered if perhaps Dumbledore called him to his office for an impromptu meeting. She should have known better, she really should have, but at the time she was much too eager to see Draco and get away from the rest of the castle. Their Room had become a safe haven not just for Draco, but for herself as well. 

 

The halls were practically empty as she climbed staircase after staircase only to arrive at the seventh floor with sweaty bangs and her lungs on fire. After catching her breath, Hermione merrily made her way to the blank stretch of wall. Just as she rounded the corner however, she saw something that made her freeze in her tracks and jump back behind the corner. Slowly, Hermione peaked around the stone wall and watched as she saw a pair of feet pace back and forth in front of the wall. 

 

 _That’s Harry_ , she told herself, a scowl marring her features. How could it not be? Not a single person aside from Harry owned an invisibility cloak. A part of her knew she should get out of there, but her feet stood rooted to the spot. She couldn’t leave. Not when she knew Draco was in there, waiting for her. Hermione stood as still as a statue as the minutes ticked by, her free period going to waste. She had hoped he would just give up quickly and leave, but once again, she should have known better. Harry was more determined at catching Draco than he was anything else. There was just under ten minutes left of their free period when she saw Harry appear in full and shove the cloak into his pocket. He gave one last lingering look at the blank wall before stalking off down the corridor. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief but had no time to wait for Draco and tell him what had just happened, as she wouldn’t dare risk being late to a Defense Against the Dark Arts class. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione arrived at Ancient Runes the next day with two gold coins clutched tightly in her hand. She took her usual seat at the table in the back, stacked her book and parchment in front of her and waited patiently until Draco arrived. It wasn’t until every other student had filed in that he turned up, just in time for the final bell. Professor Babbling cast him a stern look as he passed. Draco noticed the incessant tapping of Hermione’s foot before he sat down and by the time he was settled, she had already slid a piece of parchment his way. 

 

 _Harry was outside the Room after lunch yesterday, that’s why I never showed up_ , she’d written. 

 

Anger overtook his features once he read her note and as she watched him write down his reply, she thought he was going to puncture the parchment. When Professor Babbling wasn’t looking, Draco slid the parchment back to her. 

 

_ And here I thought you stood me up.  _ Hermione let out a soft snort, the sound muffled by her hand clamped over her mouth.  _ Something needs to be done about him, Granger.  _

 

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and toyed with her quill while she thought of her response. She’d had the same thought last night, but there was no talking Harry out of this. They could barely talk about the subject without arguing. Harry might be her best friend, but there was no way she could talk him down from stalking the Room of Requirement. She had come up with a plan though, and a good one she thought. 

 

 _Hold your hand out under the table_ , she wrote. Draco shot her a puzzled look but did as she asked. As discreetly as she could, Hermione slipped one of the gold coins into his hand. Draco cocked his head to the side before peering down at the coin. 

 

_ They’re like the coins we used for the D.A. last year. We can communicate with each other through these. That way, if something like yesterday happens again, I can at least warn you.  _ She slid the note to him with pursed lips, and she hoped he would pick up on her annoyance. 

 

Draco nodded in understanding and tucked the coin into his pocket.  _ Meet me in the library during our free and show me how these coins work?  _ He’d written and when she glanced up at him, she saw the traces of that familiar, mischievous smile. Draco winked at her, sending a blush crawling up her neck to her cheeks. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione groaned and let her head fall with a soft thud on to the large book in front of her. The rain hadn’t ceased since it arrived two days ago and continued to pound against the tall library windows. For a Thursday afternoon, the library was shockingly empty, but neither Draco or Hermione were complaining. 

 

“Yes, Granger?” Draco said, not looking up from his Astronomy homework. It was the fifth time she had let out a noise of discontent. 

 

“My back is stiff,” she said grumpily. “I need to stretch my legs.” Hermione pushed herself away from the table and got up. As she walked by Draco, she could feel his stare lingering on her and when she turned around to look at him, she saw he had been watching her hips. 

 

“Aren’t you coming?” she asked rather impatiently. 

 

Draco jerked back, surprised at the tone of her voice. He smirked at her, one eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re bossier than usual today,” he commented as he got up out of his chair and walked over to her. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that toyed at her lips. “I wanted company on my walk,” she said matter-of-factly. 

 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Granger,” he mused with a shake of his head. 

 

The two headed towards the Restricted Section, sticking to the rows closest to the back so as not to be seen. Hermione didn’t know when it happened, but her hand had slipped into Draco’s along the way as they walked in comfortable silence while she absent-mindedly scanned the tomes lining the shelves. The back rows were mostly dark, with only the occasional window providing an inkling of light. She had stopped to actually look through a few books in the Advanced Transfiguration section when she felt Draco place one hand on her waist and use the other to brush her hair to one side, exposing her neck. She felt his chin rest in the crook of her neck and his lips press against the line of her jaw; both of his hands had slid around to her front, holding her firmly to him. His lips trailed along her jaw to behind her earlobe and down the side of her neck. A soft moan escaped her lips and she let her head tip back to rest against his shoulder. His hands lay splayed across her stomach, reminding her just how big they actually were. 

 

He drew away for a brief moment and Hermione took that as her chance to turn around. There was a tingling feeling in her abdomen and the hairs on the back of her neck were standing straight. She brought her hands up to Draco’s cheeks and cupped his face in her hands and his grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her forward, his lips meeting hers and their bodies pressing together. Hermione opened her mouth almost immediately, allowing his tongue to brush against her bottom teeth. One of his hands had moved to cradle the back of her neck before he deepened the kiss and another moan escaped her throat as her hands snaked around his neck, nails digging into his skin. Draco stepped forward, pushing her back towards the shelves. She stumbled but quickly caught her balance when her back hit the shelving unit and she heard several books fall onto their sides. 

 

“Draco!” she scolded in a hushed tone, their lips brushing against one another. “Be careful of the books!” 

 

Draco let out a throaty laugh, one that she felt travel from her lips to the tips of her toes. In a rather bold move, Hermione bit his bottom lip and dug her hands under the fabric of his jumper to grip his sides. His lips traveled from her mouth to her cheek, down her neck to the crook of her shoulder. He flicked his tongue on the hollow spot, making her head tilt back and her back arch, her body pressing against his. She was panting in his ear as his mouth continued trailing up and down her neck...along her jaw... and his hands slipped under her shirt and traveled towards her breasts. The tips of his fingers slipped under her bra as her hands snaked up his sides to rest on his shoulders. Merlin, if she knew this is what it felt like to snog Draco Malfoy, she would have kissed him months ago. Every touch of his fingertips felt like an electric shock against her skin, with lust and need surging to every nerve in her body. Every flick of his tongue was like tidal waves of a pleasure she had yet to experience. 

 

As their kisses grew more heated and heavy, and their hands continued to wander and tug and pull and pinch, Hermione felt something hard press against her thigh. She gasped, and pulled away from him, her arms falling to rest by her sides again. Draco’s hands left her breasts and came to rest on her hips. “What’s wrong?” 

 

A blush had surely crept up her to cheeks by now. She stammered, unsure what to say, or how to phrase it rather. “Your...erm...you--” She pointed down at his trousers where they could both clearly see him pressing against the fabric. “We should get back to our table,” she said quickly, averting his eyes and pushing past him. “We’ve been gone for too long.” 

 

Draco looked disappointed, but he combed his fingers through his hair and let a smile settle on his lips. “Well come on then,” he said moving towards where she stood. “You still have to show me how those coins work, yes?” 

 

* * *

 

“Hermione, are you sure there’s nothing going on with you?” Ginny asked Thursday evening as they sat a table farthest from the rest of the students mingling about in the common room and occasionally worked on their homework. 

 

“I’ve told you,” Hermione said through gritted teeth, now a bit annoyed that Ginny wouldn’t just drop the subject. She had pestered her all through dinner. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind lately.” 

 

“Right,” Ginny snorted. “Except none of those things should leave you smiling like a bloody idiot. So again, I ask, what in Merlin’s name is going on?” 

 

Hermione bit her lip and paused in her writing but she didn’t meet Ginny’s eyes. She wanted to talk about Draco with Ginny, she did, because there were quite a few things that bothered her that she wasn’t quite sure how to talk to Draco about. For one, she had no idea what her and Draco actually  _ were.  _ Clearly, they were past friendship, but they’d never discussed their relationship all that much. Then of course, there were the more monumental problems. None of them knew where this war would lead or what it would bring, and deep down she worried it would manage to rip them apart. 

 

Finally, Hermione sighed heavily and set down her quill. “Alright, fine,” she snapped, her voice no louder than a whisper. “There is something going on but I don’t want to talk about it yet. Maybe...Maybe at some point, but not now. Please, Gin. Just not right now, okay?” 

 

Ginny’s mouth hung open slightly, her response on the tip of her tongue but Hermione stared her down with a pleading look. She watched Ginny’s face fall in defeat. “Okay,” she said. “Not now.” 

 

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. “I trust you, you know that. But I just...I’m not ready to talk about it, yet. That’s all.” 

 

The youngest Weasley nodded and returned to her homework. It wasn’t actually talking about Draco that Hermione wasn’t ready for, it was the anger and lack of understanding that she knew would come eventually. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione entered the library on Friday morning with two croissants stuffed down in her bag and a pep in her step. They were just one day away from the Easter holidays and that meant a full week dedicated to studying, and not having any classes shoving new information down her throat. The early Spring sun illuminated the wooden floors and dusty shelves as she wove her way towards the back, where she knew Draco would be waiting for her. She only saw a few students as she passed by the rows of shelves, but none that she recognized. 

 

Draco was already at their table, his head bent low over the parchment “Good morning,” she greeted cheerfully as she sat down across from him. She pulled out the two croissants and passed one to him. “I hope chocolate is okay, there wasn’t much of a selection left by the time I got to the platter…” 

 

“Chocolate is fine,” he told her with a quick dismissive wave. “Sorry just let me...finish this star chart…” Hermione waited patiently as he wrote out the last few labels and added a dot or two before he dropped his quick and looked at her properly since she first arrived. “Morning,” he said with a dazzling smile. 

 

Hermione returned his smile and pulled out her Charms textbook, even though she didn’t feel like studying all that much. “So,” she said, sitting up a bit straighter in her chair. “Easter holidays starts tomorrow.” 

 

Draco tore off a piece of his croissant and stuffed it into his mouth. His eyes fluttered as he chewed, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away as he licked the sticky residue off the tips of his fingers. He froze when he caught her watching, a smirk playing at his lips. “Will you be staying here?” he asked before tearing off another piece of the pastry. 

 

She nodded and tore off a piece of her own croissant. “There’s some work I need to get done that I can’t do anywhere else,” she paused before glancing up at him again. “Are you staying?” 

 

“Yes,” he said, though he sounded conflicted about this aspect. He was silent for a moment before he said, “Mother wanted me to come home, but--” His features contorted into a mixture of pain and fear. He squeezed his eyes shut and balled his hands into tight fists. “I just can’t.” 

 

Hermione nodded as though she understood. “At least we can spend the holiday together,” she said quietly. “Ron and Harry will be gone.” 

 

Draco glanced up at her then, sadness in his eyes but a smile on his lips. He reached across the table and laced his fingers with hers. Her heart fluttered as his thumb ran along the back of her hand. “At least we’ll be together,” he repeated back to her. 

 

* * *

 

“You’re really not coming home for Easter?” Ron asked incredulously, looking at Harry in disbelief. 

 

Ginny, she noticed, shook her head and raised her copy of The Quibbler higher to cover her amused expression. Harry was now giving her a peculiar look and the heat in Hermione’s cheeks was growing hotter by the second. Why did this have to be such a big deal? She clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “No, Ronald, I’m not,” she snapped. “They still need Prefects here, you know.” 

 

“Mum hasn’t seen you in ages though,” Ron said, sounding a bit disappointed at the news. 

 

Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples. She could feel a headache coming and mentally cursed herself for skipping lunch that afternoon, but Harry, Ron and Ginny would be leaving for the Burrow soon and she could go down to the Great Hall and enjoy dinner by herself. After learning that Draco was staying for the Easter holiday as well, she was rather eager for her friends to leave. She felt horrible for feeling this way, but the ball of excitement in her stomach was growing as the hours slipped by and their departure drew closer. 

 

“I’m sorry, Ron,” she said, and a part of her really was. She loved going to the Burrow during their holidays. She missed Molly’s cooking, and she even missed the twin’s pranks and antics. She dropped her voice to a whisper and leaned in closer to the two boys when she spoke next. “But with me staying here, I can search for more books in the library and probably venture down to Hogsmeade; see if I can find any books there.” 

 

“That’s actually a really good idea, Hermione,” Harry said, though he was still looking at her curiously. 

 

“Thanks, Harry,” she said with a relieved sigh. “Oooh, and while you two are gone I can draw up your study schedules!” 

 

The two boys exchanged unenthusiastic glances before giving her strained smiles and muttered their appreciation. She knew they hated her study schedules, and even though she had no intention of actually making them, they didn’t have to know that. The large, grandfather clock in the far corner of the room chimed and when Hermione glanced over at the sound, she saw it was already six o’clock. Her heart skipped a beat. As soon as they left, she could head off to the Room of Requirement to meet up with Draco. 

 

Harry stood up, stretched and grabbed his trunk. “Ready, Ron? Ginny?” he asked. 

 

Hermione stood as well and went to give Harry a hug. “Try and clear your mind, okay Harry?” she whispered to him. “Maybe it will help figure out a way to get the memory from Slughorn.” 

 

Harry nodded and told her to have a good Easter and that they’d be back the coming Saturday morning. She said good-bye to Ron and Ginny, and promised them both she’d be here waiting for them when they returned, and waved goodbye as the three of them climbed out of the portrait hole to head to McGonagall’s office where they would use her floo to arrive at the Burrow. The second the door swung shut behind them, Hermione muttered, “Finally.”


	27. Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24 (check out the story on her ffn account!) 
> 
> We've been getting some really lovely comments lately so thank you so much for those <3 You guys are the best and we hope you continue to love the story! 
> 
> Also, we've decided to start uploading on a schedule, once a week. this is so we can have some pre-written chapters to post when the both of us have some real-life events to focus on in the next coming weeks. The upload will happen sunday night/monday morning depending on your time zone - it will happen the same day as this upload happened for you, so keep an eye out in your emails/on tumblr!

Hermione spent a little bit of time waiting around the common room so she could be sure the majority of students had already left to start their Easter break. When it was half six, she finally left through the portrait and headed down the hallway to get to the Room of Requirement where she hoped Draco would already be waiting for her. There was not a student to be seen as she made her way there, and she was alone in the corridor as she paced back and forth, thinking of their Room until the door appeared.

 

“Glad you could finally make it,” a drawling voice said when Hermione entered the Room, and she smiled and looked over to the couch where Draco was seated.

 

“Glad to see you’re eager enough to be early,” she teased right back and slipped off her shoes before she walked over to him. He was laying out on the couch, taking up the entire space, with his legs hanging over one of the armrests. She leaned down, unable to help herself, and pressed a kiss to his lips, and her hair came down to frame his face and mostly get in the way.

 

He moved his arm and then she felt his hand against the back of her head, pulling her closer to him, kissing her harder. She bit down gently on his bottom lip and then pulled back, knowing it was slightly teasing of her to do so, but she saw him smile up at her. She tapped her hand on his shoulder and he sat up so she could have enough room to take a seat on the sofa. “How did your day go today?” Draco asked as she placed her hand on his chest to push him back to lie down with his head in her lap.

 

“Alright,” Hermione smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “I managed to finish quite a few bits and pieces of holiday homework.”

 

“Oh,” Draco frowned, his brows furrowed. “I forgot about that… I’ll need to do some,” he said.

 

“That’s okay,” she shrugged. “We have a whole week to do whatever we want. I’m sure we can fit in you doing homework somewhere.”

 

“Unfortunately,” he joked with a smile.

 

She looked down at him with a small laugh and then moved her hand to his cheek. “I’m quite excited about these holidays,” she admitted with a soft flush.

 

He leaned his cheek slightly into her hand. “I am too,” he told her and then moved upwards slightly.

 

She didn’t need to be told twice to lean down and kiss him once more.

 

* * *

 

It was Monday, and Hermione had came across Draco on the seventh floor when she’d been heading to breakfast, and he had -- according to him -- been in the Room to do a bit of reading. Her eyes had narrowed at his excuse, as he looked tired and worn out, and he didn’t speak much as they made their way down to the Great Hall, but she didn’t bring it up. They had been doing well over the past two days not to fight, which was good considering that they were now only spending time with each other.

 

Three house tables had been moved to the walls in the Hall, just like they had over the Christmas holidays, leaving one long table in the middle of the room, which was more than enough to accommodate the small amount of students that had stayed instead of going home over Easter. She and Draco were the only sixth years, and the rest of the students were considerably younger than them; the only students older, being the Head Boy and Girl. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if the younger students left over were Muggleborns like herself, and if they’d decided to forgo telling their parents of the dangers that had been occurring in Hogwarts and in the Wizarding World in general. Maybe they were too young to know what was going on.

 

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked when they had been sat at the table for a few minutes and she still hadn’t touched her food.

 

“Hm?” She snapped back to reality and looked away from the other students, down to her plate. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

 

“About?” He pressed, buttering a slice of toast.

 

Hermione let out a sigh through her nose then looked back at the younger students. The small group of them all made up from different houses but sitting together, smiling, chatting, laughing… “They’re just so innocent,” she murmured to Draco. “They don’t know what’s going on.”

 

He looked at them too, and then placed his knife down. “Maybe that’s a good thing,” he said, and at her questioning look, he explained. “They shouldn’t have to live in fear of what’s out  _ there _ . If they don’t know, the only worries they have is getting their half a foot essay in on time. They’re little, if they are taught that something bad is happening, they’re going to magnify how bad it really is and live in constant fear. They’re not as brave or strong as we are as older students.”

 

She knew that he made sense, and nodded before looking back down at her plate and stabbing a bit of pork sausage. “I just don’t want them to be unprepared,” she said after a while. She looked up at him when he moved his foot forward under the table to rest in between hers.

 

“They won’t be,” he assured her. “They’ll know somehow.”

 

“I hope you’re right…” She murmured. They made light conversation, much more enjoyable than talking about the imminent future, and only stopped when someone approached them.

 

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” Professor Dumbledore smiled at her. “Mister Malfoy,” he said, looking at Draco. Hermione looked at him too and noticed how his cheeks had paled and how he stared down at his plate of breakfast with such an intensity that it looked like he could break the ceramic.

 

“Morning, Professor,” Hermione greeted quickly before Draco’s behaviour could be picked up on. It was futile, she knew it; Dumbledore was observant.

 

The Headmaster placed a small bit of parchment next to Hermione’s plate. “For you,” he said. “Enjoy the rest of your morning, both of you,” he said with a parting smile and then left.

 

“What was that about?” Hermione mumbled, looking over her shoulder to watch the wizard leave. Draco didn’t answer and when she turned back around she saw him pushing food around on his plate. She decided not to question him, and instead picked up the piece of parchment Dumbledore had left her. “He wants me to come to his office when I’m done,” she said after reading.

 

Draco raised his head. “Why?” He asked.

 

“It doesn’t say,” she said and tucked the note in her pocket. “I should go now…”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She had stood up by then, and looked at him, chewing her bottom lip. “How about you go out to the Lake?” She suggested. “I’ll come find you when I’m finished. It shouldn’t be long.” He didn’t respond, but nodded at her. She didn’t want to go when he was looking that way, but knew she couldn’t keep Dumbledore waiting. Resisting the urge to give his hand a squeeze, or lean over to give him a quick kiss, she turned and left the Great Hall.

 

* * *

 

“I’m glad you could come so soon, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore greeted calmly when she entered his office.

 

“It’s not a problem, Professor,” Hermione smiled, a tad nervous over what the Headmaster needed her for, and wondered if it were for the same reason she’d previously been called to his office over the last several months.

 

“And I assume that you want to know why I’ve asked you here after so much time without me asking you to visit my office,” he said and Hermione nodded. “Take a seat,” he waved his hand at the large chair opposite him at his desk. She walked to it and sat down, placing her hands on her lap and waited. “How has your schoolwork been fairing?” Dumbledore asked her.

 

A bit taken aback by that question, she nodded first before speaking. “Very well. I’m keeping on top of things… I’ve finished all of my holiday homework.”

 

“Something I should have known,” Dumbledore smiled. “And I see that you’re spending time with Mister Malfoy now that majority of the student body has left?”

 

“Yes,” Hermione nodded with a small smile. “We do spend time together during school time, not just during the holidays,” she told him.

 

“I am very glad to hear of that,” the Headmaster nodded. “And you are as good friends as you were last time you spoke to me about him?”

 

Hermione hoped her cheeks didn’t flush. “Very good friends,” she nodded. “More so than the last time you and I spoke.”

 

Dumbledore smiled. “You don’t know how relieved that makes me feel, Miss Granger,” he spoke. “How is he coping with his own schoolwork?”

 

She thought it was a rather strange question, because surely he could ask Draco to come to his office and ask himself, but she didn’t question it. “Good, actually. Better. He does his homework, I help him out with notes if he needs them. He doesn’t miss as many classes, either, so he hasn’t had any detentions in a very long time.”

 

“Good, good…” Dumbledore nodded. “How much do the both of you talk about Mister Malfoy’s home life?” He asked and Hermione fought the urge to narrow her eyes at the question. This was...strange. Very strange.

 

“Sometimes,” she said slowly. “But as it’s personal, I think I’ll keep it to myself, if that’s okay.”

 

What she saw in the Headmaster’s eyes could have been disappointment -- even annoyance -- but the emotion was gone before she could decide. “Do you think...that if Mister Malfoy was under any hardship, you would be able to guide him towards the right path?”

 

Hermione stiffened and stared at Dumbledore. “Of course I would,” she said. “He’s important to me, I’d never let him do something wrong. He wouldn’t, though,” she defended. “I know that he won’t do anything wrong. I trust him.”

 

Dumbledore nodded and sat back in his chair. “I’m very glad to hear that,” he said. “It’s very good that he has someone like yourself in his life, Miss Granger. I am sure you feel the same way.”

 

“Yes, I do feel lucky that things are the way they are now,” she agreed.

 

“I do thank you for coming to visit me,” he said. “And I apologise for any inconvenience it has caused you,” he told her and then gave her a nod, giving her permission to leave.

 

Hermione placed her hands on the arm of the chair, ready to stand up, but stopped herself when she thought of something; something that she knew she should have brought up much earlier than that morning’s meeting. “Professor Dumbledore…” She said softly. Her eyes met his and she saw him nod once, imploring her to continue talking. “I...I know that you and the Order must have a lot on your plate right now,” she started, and could hear her voice start to shake. “But I’d really...I’d really like to know that my parents are safe,” she rushed out in one breath. “T-They don’t know anything about what might happen in our world,” she told the older wizard, and felt her throat tighten the more emotional she grew. “And I don’t want them to be hurt… I can’t protect them when I’m here, I don’t know what to do, I--”

 

Professor Dumbledore leaned forward, his arms crossed on the large desk that sat between them. “I have it all taken care of, Miss Granger,” he said kindly and with a gentle smile. “I’ve arranged for several Order members to be situated near wherever your parents may go, much like I arranged for members to watch over Harry last year,” he said, and then chuckled quietly. “Although, I assure you, these members are much more capable, and nothing will happen to your parents as it did with Harry.”

 

It felt like a pressure the weight of an anvil had been lifted from her chest upon hearing that her parents were officially safe and being looked after. And all of that had been happening when she hadn’t spoken a word of her worry about them to any older member of the Order. “They’re being looked after?” She asked timidly, a small smile threatening to form with the sheer relief of knowing her mum and dad would be okay.

 

“You have my word,” Dumbledore nodded.

 

Hermione’s smile fully formed and she stood from the chair, going to leave as she had planned to before. “Thank you so much, Professor,” she said, “I really can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

 

“No thanks are needed,” he held up a hand and shook his head.

 

Her breath of relief came out shaky and she turned to the large office door to leave. “Oh!” She gasped and then turned back. “They’re planning to visit Italy for three weeks. They’ll come home the day before the school year finishes here…” She let him know and watched Dumbledore pull over a piece of parchment and a quill.

 

“I’ll assure that they’re kept as safe as possible,” he told her, looking at her and not at the parchment while he wrote something down. “Enjoy the rest of your holidays, Miss Granger.”

 

Hermione left the office feeling like she had a new outlook on the future. No longer did she need to worry incessantly about her parents’ safety, as they were being watched over by experienced and talented Order members who would ensure no harm came to them. She could sleep easy now, knowing that her mum and dad would be there to greet her when she hopped off the Hogwarts Express in just three months.

 

She walked with her shoulders back and a smile on her face, making her way down the many stairs to get to the first floor. She couldn’t tell him how exactly her parents were safe (as much as she wanted to), due to the secrecy of the Order of the Phoenix, but she could very well share her good mood with him and enjoy the rare sunny day that April had bestowed upon them.

* * *

 

Although the sun was out, there was still a few clouds in the sky and a chill in the air that had Hermione digging her hands further into her coat pockets, and her nose into the thick scarf wrapped around her neck. She walked from the Main Entrance doors and passed the greenhouses with a spring in her step due to the good news Dumbledore had bestowed on her. She almost stumbled on the uneven ground, laughing softly to herself as she redirected herself to walk to the Lake where Draco would hopefully be waiting.

 

She couldn’t see him until she drew closer, and vaguely made out a figure lying beneath the large tree that stood closest to the water. Hermione slowed her steps until she stopped completely when she could see him properly. He was wearing his usual black trousers and white button-up shirt that he always wore and it amused her that not even during the school holidays would he change from his uniform. Not that she was one to talk, as there had been plenty of times throughout her whole experience at Hogwarts that she would wear her uniform instead of Muggle clothes during the holidays. Sometimes it was nice not to have to think about what clothes to wear, but rather just wear something already preassigned.

 

He was lying flat out on his back, with one leg bent at the knee. One of his arms was bent too, his forearm resting over his eyes, and she could just barely see the slow up and down movements of his chest from breathing, and it made her wonder if he had perhaps fallen asleep whilst waiting for her. Hermione decided that then was as good a time as ever to find out, and she carried on walking until she reached his side, her toes almost touching the side of his chest. “That doesn’t look very comfortable,” she said, smiling as she looked down at him.

 

If he had been surprised by her, he didn’t show it, and instead lowered his arm and revealed a small lopsided grin. “It’s  _ wonderfully _ comfortable. Didn’t you know that rocks digging into your back is one of the best feelings to experience?” He joked and sat up and lifted one hand to her.

 

She rolled her eyes at his humour, and took his hand before sitting down next to him when he gave it a little tug. “Hey,” she greeted him properly, turning her head to him.

 

Draco’s grin still stayed as he looked at her. “ _ Hey _ ,” he repeated and then leaned forward to kiss her. Even though it only lasted a few seconds, it still caused her heart to quicken and a flush to rise to her cheeks. “Now are you going to tell me why I was left out here for twenty minutes by myself?” He asked when he pulled back.

 

“It wasn’t much really,” Hermione said, remembering that she had to lie. “Professor Dumbledore just called me to his office to check up on how I was handling my schoolwork and then asked about how Harry was doing,” she shrugged, not _ really  _ lying, but not telling the whole truth either.

 

He scoffed. “Potter can’t see him on his own time?” He asked and earnt a soft pinch in the side from her.

 

“Shut up, you,” she chided lightly. “Harry’s not much of a talker when it comes to...authority, shall we say,” she bent the truth once more.

 

“Could have guessed,” Draco drawled and then lay back down on the grass.

 

Hermione stayed sitting upright and looked out over the lake. The water looked dark, and  _ freezing _ cold despite the weather starting to look up. “What have you been doing while waiting?” She asked out of curiosity.

 

“Not much,” he responded. “I tried throwing stones again, like we did ages ago.”

 

She grinned at the memory of what had happened during the Christmas holidays, when she had taught Draco to skip stones, and almost got them hit by said rocks when the Giant Squid decided on throwing them back out. What she remembered most vividly from that day, was how he had found her crying under the tree, but hadn’t mocked her or left, but stayed and kept her company. And of course, she remembered when they had ran from the squid’s attack, she had bore witness to him laughing; probably the first time she’d ever seen him laugh that freely or loudly.

 

“Did you get attacked this time?” She asked, looking down at him.

 

He laughed and shook his head. “No, thank Merlin,” he said and then put his arm around her waist and tugged her coat slightly. “Will you lie down?” He asked.

 

“On the comfortable rocks?” She teased, but lay down beside him, and his arm moved to rest beneath her neck. She turned slightly to be closer to his side, and stared up at the tree looming over them. Many minutes passed in comfortable silence, and his fingers had started to move over her shoulder, and she allowed her cheek to rest fully on his chest. “I wish we didn’t need to wait until almost everyone is out of the castle before we can do this,” she admitted.

 

His chest stopped moving as he held his breath for a second before exhaling. “I know…” He said quietly and she could hear the rumble of his voice from her ear pressed to his ribs. “I hate that everything is the way it is,” he said bitterly, making her head lift up.

 

“Hey…” She murmured, with brows furrowed. “It’s not so bad, really… We can still see each other, just not in public like this,” she said and placed her hand on his chest, right over where his heart was. “It’ll change one day,” she said, but knew that the possibility of it changing for the  _ better  _ was slim. By his expression, she knew that he thought the same. “We should stop dwelling on how things could be different,” she decided and leaned close to him and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We can’t be upset and angry now… We can’t complain.”

 

“I know,” Draco murmured and turned his head to kiss her properly. Her fingers curled into his shirt as he did so and his other hand came to the back of her head, burying his own fingers in her hair.

 

When they parted, she let out a breath and rest her forehead against his. “It’s still so surreal to me,” she admitted.

 

“What is?”

 

“That we’re doing this,” she said, pulling back to look at him properly.

 

He gave her that half-smile that she was fully convinced he  _ knew _ sent her stomach into flutters. “Unbeknownst to you, some things can actually happen without it being _ planned  _ in a timetable beforehand,” he teased her.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and gave his chest a light slap. “Even  _ you _ can admit you didn’t see this coming.”

 

He laughed softly, “I can admit that,” he said. “We were two idiots about the whole thing.”

 

“Maybe you,” she joked and he laughed before giving a gentle tug to her hair. “That hurt!”

 

“No it didn’t,” he snorted and rolled his eyes. She reached her hand up to his hair to retaliate but he was quick to shield himself. “You better not touch my hair, Granger, you’ll regret it.”

 

“Oh, the  _ tragedy _ .”

 

* * *

 

“It’s so pointless that we even have to  _ do _ Rounds during the holidays,” Draco muttered as they walked down the dungeon corridor together.

 

“Someone has to do it,” Hermione responded, trailing her fingertips against the slightly damp, cold stone walls. “And we’re the only Prefects that stayed back. You should be lucky the teachers have only assigned us one night and they’ll do the rest.”

 

It was a Wednesday evening, nearing the end of their school break, with only two more days until students would return from their Easter holidays. She and Draco had made the most of being alone in the castle with the only other students there not being anyone that would have suspicions about the both of them spending time together. And spend time together they did, choosing to be in the castle or out on the grounds rather than cooped up inside their Room.

  
They’d spent more time in the library, with Draco finishing off homework and Hermione doing some general reading and gathering of books on protective enchantments for her, Harry and Ron, telling Draco that she was “just interested in the topic” when he asked why she was reading those sorts of books. They walked the grounds, peered into the Greenhouses, spent time by the Lake and walking around the edges; they’d even done a bit of stone skipping, but this time, hadn’t had rocks thrown back at them from the Squid.

 

Having the break together, even though it was only for a short time, was like it had been over the Christmas holidays, but better, if that were possible. During the Christmas holidays, they had both still had hesitation around each other, their relationship not even near what it was now. This break, they could laugh together without minding, tease each other without becoming offended. Kiss each other...

 

He made a noise that sounded like a scoff due to her statement, and she rolled her eyes in response. Glancing over at him, she saw that he was drumming his wand against the side of his leg as they walked along. “No-one will even be out of their common rooms,” he said and she laughed and shook her head.

 

“Maybe if you stopped complaining we can get this done quickly and painlessly,” she said.

 

He laughed quietly at that too. “No, I’m happy when I’m complaining,” he joked.

 

“Of course you are,” she murmured with a smile, and turned around to double back from patrolling the dungeons. “Seven floors to go,” she said, heading to the Grand Staircase.

 

After they’d finished patrolling the first floor, and were half way through the second, Draco spoke up again. “This feels like the Christmas holidays again, doesn’t it?”

 

“It does,” Hermione agreed. “Hardly anyone here… Not having to hide out in our Room…” She listed. “Though, it  _ is _ kind of sad that no-one feels safe enough to be here.

 

“Maybe they’re right to feel that,” Draco said after a few moments of silence and she turned to stare at him. He caught her gaze and looked away again. “I’m just  _ saying _ , that things aren’t exactly ideal. Some parents just want to know their kids are safe.”

 

“Are you saying that we’re not safe being here?” Hermione asked. She wasn’t angry at him, rather she was confused over why he would say such a thing.

 

“Is anyone really safe anywhere?” He retorted. “The world’s not the best place right now…”

 

“Dumbledore’s here,” she said surely, and reached over to him to take his hand. “We’ll be fine here. I know that we will.”

 

Draco didn’t speak for the rest of their walk through the second floor and she stayed quiet too. Sometimes it just felt calming to be in his presence but be quiet and involved only in her thoughts. He seemed to share the same feeling too, as whenever she would glance his way, she’d spot him looking blankly ahead, deep in thought. If there were any students hiding out of bed, she knew that they both would have completely missed them from being so lost in thought.

 

Their walk through the third floor was equally as quiet until Hermione’s pace dwindled as they passed a large bay window. There wasn’t many clouds in the sky, and she leant down to sit on the stone and stare out. Draco stood back with his hands on his pockets, and watched her as she looked at the dark grounds beneath them, void of any movement.

 

“What stars are these?” Hermione asked, turning briefly to look at him.

 

She moved to the side slightly to allow him room to sit too and look out. “Just stars,” he said with a soft smile. “No constellations that I can see.”

 

“Shame… Here I was thinking you had more to offer,” she teased and he nudged his knee against hers and chuckled under his breath. She looked back out the window and around the grounds. “It looks so peaceful out there, doesn’t it?”

 

He didn’t respond, but she felt his hand on her knee, his fingers tracing around her knee cap as she continued looking out at the grounds. After a few more minutes, she stood up and brushed off the back of her skirt. “We should probably finish our rounds,” she said and he nodded in agreement and stood too.

 

Their hands found each other instantly as they began to walk through the hallways once more, staying quiet. Hermione had a feeling that there was something Draco was hiding, as he’d been awfully quiet and stoic ever since their walk through the second floor. She didn’t ask about it, but squeezed his hand every now and then.

 

“What do you think about going to our Room?” He spoke up when they had arrived on the seventh floor almost half an hour later.

 

“Now?” She questioned. “It’s almost eleven… Don’t you think that’s a bit late?”

 

The first sign that he wasn’t as sullen as he’d seemed to be, was his smirk in response to her question. “And who’s going to catch us?” He asked.

 

She pursed her lips, still looking at him as they walked along. “I don’t know…”

 

“It’s the holidays, it’s not like we have any classes tomorrow,” he reminded her and his pace slowed until he’d stopped and she followed suit. “Come on, Granger,” he murmured and stepped forward with a crooked smile.

 

A smile graced her own lips and she stepped back slightly to lean against the wall. “And what if you’re caught having to go back to the dungeons?” She asked him and was hyper-aware of the feeling of his fingers trailing up her arm as his other hand rest on the wall beside her shoulder.

 

“I can always stay overnight in the Room,” he shrugged and lifted his hand to curl a bit of her hair around his finger.

 

“And what do you suggest we do in the Room?” She lifted an eyebrow as she stared up at him. She wanted to go to the Room with him, but thought that playing him along was a little too fun of an opportunity to pass up.

 

“Talk about schoolwork… Completely innocent goings on,” he smirked and she  _ knew  _ that wasn’t what they’d do at all. Not that she minded one bit.

 

* * *

 

Hermione’s gasp joined the sounds of the bed covers rustling, and Draco’s deep breathing against her neck. They were both on top of the covers on the bed that now held permanent residence in their Room, with her lying on her back and Draco leaning over her. Both of his legs rest beside hers, their lower halves not against each other, but his chest was almost fully pressed to hers as his lips glided their way up and down her neck, from the space of skin above the top of her jumper, right up to her jawline. He had just discovered that running his tongue over the hollow behind her earlobe produced a delightful moan from her lips, and caused her fingers to curl harder into the back of his jumper.

 

She didn’t know how exactly they’d made their way from the couch having some tea (at her request after their ‘hard-work’ on their rounds) to the both of them kissing on the bed, then ending up with him almost laying fully on top of her, but she really couldn’t complain. Everything about it was bliss. She would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t expected this to happen when the two of them got to their Room; it was quite the opposite, rather, as she’d hoped that it  _ would _ happen. It almost worried her how intoxicating kissing Draco was, and how much she thought about it. She’d  _ never _ thought she would be that kind of person, but alas, here she was, with her fingers digging into his back, her tongue sliding against his own, trying to pull him closer...kiss him harder.

 

They’d been kissing for rather a long time before her eyes widened when she felt him lean up and his hands come to rest on the bottom of her jumper. He looked at her for a few seconds, and her gaze rove over his features. His lips were looking especially red -- no wonder, after the length of time they had been pressed to her own --, and his cheeks were flushed. It was his eyes that caught her attention the most though, his pupils dilated more than she’d seen before… She certainly knew what that meant. Her teeth found her bottom lip on instinct, and she answered his unspoken question, nodding only once before lifting up slightly from the bed and raising her arms above her head.

 

He moved quickly as he tugged her jumper up and over her head, and threw it somewhere to their right. Just as he was about to lean back down, her hand darted out to his chest, stopping him from moving. “Wait,” she breathed and then moved her hands to the bottom of his own jumper. He didn’t say anything, and raised his arms as she had, and she managed to pull most of it off before it got stuck near his head and she had to sit up straighter to tug it off the rest of the way. He was grinning when his face was revealed; grinning in that stupid, goofy way that made her heart beat tenfold. She smiled too, and went back to laying down on the bed and let him move over her.

 

Both of Draco’s legs still stayed to one side of her own, and for that she was quite grateful. While she enjoyed what they were doing, she didn’t know just how it would be if their positions were to change into something that was most usually done in a way that required no clothes at all. The thought brought a flush to her cheeks, and she was glad that at that moment Draco had decided to kiss her again. She wasn’t shocked when his hands came to her breasts, rather, she encouraged it, her back arching from the mattress, and when her lips parted, he slipped his tongue in her mouth. His hands always seemed to wander now, when they kissed, and she’d wondered a few times in the privacy of her bed at night, with the curtains drawn, that if it felt so good over her jumper and shirt, what would it feel like with nothing separating his hands from her skin?

 

They stayed like that for quite a lengthy amount of time, lips attached, taking turns to explore the other’s mouth with their tongues; her hands running up and down Draco’s back, twining in the hair at the base of his neck, and his hands squeezing her breasts in time with the movements of his tongue. He had moved to lean on one forearm when his other hand moved from her breast to the top button of her shirt, and he took his time in unbuttoning it, and moved his head back to gauge her reaction. Her cheeks were red, something she really wished she could control, but she didn’t stop him… She had after all, just been thinking about what this may feel like… 

 

He wasn’t the quickest in unbuttoning her shirt, sometimes having to fiddle with one button longer than others when it refused to come undone. When he reached the bottom, he ran the tip of his index finger along the narrow expanse of skin that had been exposed with her shirt slightly parted, and she inhaled quickly, her stomach caving in as his touch moved past. Her breathing quickened when he pushed her shirt apart, exposing her front fully to him, and she stared at his face trying to figure out his reaction.

 

Draco didn’t seem to have any qualms about anything, much to her relief. Not about the plain nude-coloured bra that she’d never  _ really _ been properly fitted for, or the way that her stomach wasn’t as flat as she knew it  _ could _ be with a bit of exercise and healthy eating. She watched his gaze roam all over, and then felt his fingers follow. He traced the slope of her ribs first, and then down from her sternum to her navel, where her legs tensed and a soft laugh escaped. “I’m ticklish,” she admitted when he looked up to her face, and he shook his head with a smile and then looked back down. When his hand roamed lower, his fingertips grazing the waistband of her skirt, she lifted her own hand to place on his. The thought made her heart beat a little faster in nervousness, and she gave a subtle shake of her head. “N-Not yet,” she whispered. She meant it, though. It was bound to happen, she knew it would based on how their hands wandered when they kissed, so much more so than their first kiss several weeks ago.

 

He didn’t protest to her stopping his wandering, and he gave her a reassuring smile and ducked his head back down to kiss her lips. “I can’t help myself,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers with every syllable. “I just want to touch you everywhere I can,” he breathed, and solidified that fact by slipping one hand under the cup of her bra.

 

Hermione didn’t mind that, she welcomed it, and her head fell back into the pillow, her jaw slack.  _ Merlin _ , everywhere he touched felt like it was branded in fire. She felt amazing swoops in her lower stomach with every touch of his palm to her nipple, and she couldn’t stop the soft moan that she made. She could do this forever. His stomach pressed to hers when he leaned against her, and she could feel the buttons of his own shirt indenting themselves into her skin. She couldn’t have cared less, and brought her arms up to wrap around his back, trying to pull him closer.

 

They touched for so long that time was now an irrelevant concept to her. His other hand had pushed against her neglected breast, and he took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, drawing out a moan that she never knew she could produce. She kissed his mouth, and slid her tongue along his own, and his teeth and gums; it was messy and unrefined as they were too busy panting and trying to get their hands over every inch of each other, but she didn’t care. Sometimes his mouth descended to her neck again, and on one occasion that it did, Hermione brought her hands down from his back and in between them.

 

It was then his turn to pull back in confusion and look down to see what she was doing. She knew that it was bold of her to move her hands up to the top button of his shirt and undo it as he had with hers. Even though she knew it was a bold move, it didn’t stop her, no matter how embarrassed she felt that he was watching her do it. She reasoned that if he could do it to her, why not the other way? And even though she wasn’t planning on doing the same thing with her hands as  _ he _ had with his intentions of taking off her shirt, it didn’t matter. She wanted to see him. To touch him for the first time without the barrier of some thin, white fabric between him and her hands.

 

She was quicker than she had been as she unbuttoned his shirt, and when she got to the bottom, she stilled her hands and just looked. She’d never seen a male’s chest in  _ this _ sort of environment before. Of course she’d seen Harry and Ron’s when they went swimming at the Burrow, and had seen all kinds of movie and TV actors with their tops off, but this was different.  _ Completely _ different.

 

Her hands came to the top of his shirt and she went to push it off his shoulders but he shook his head once. She didn’t question it one bit, and didn’t mind, either. She could still see him, his shirt was still open, it was only his back and arms that were still covered by the shirt and it didn’t bother her in anyway. He was rather lean, but she could tell that he kept himself fit. She placed her palms on his ribs and ran them down to his stomach and heard his breathing quicken. He moved forward slightly and she could feel something hard against the side of her thigh, something she’d noticed had happened almost as soon as they’d began kissing in the first place. She didn’t worry about that though, but couldn’t help but wonder how he wasn’t embarrassed; she couldn’t bear to think about how embarrassing it would be when he would find out just how their kissing and touching affected  _ her _ .

 

Draco lowered down again and she arched her back slightly when the bare skin of their stomachs pressed together and his lips met hers once more and his hands resumed their previous positions. She moved her touch from his stomach up to his shoulders, hooking her fingers over and holding tightly, enjoying every. Single. Second.

 

* * *

 

It was officially the last full day of holidays before all the other students would return to Hogwarts; Easter break was coming to a close. Hermione felt a mixture of emotions. Primarily, she was annoyed that her and Draco couldn’t walk freely around the castle together, sit with each other at meals, laze around by the lake and walk the grounds enjoying the sun… They would be once again confined to their Room, meeting in privacy, glaring at each other in the halls to keep face, only  _ really  _ being able to walk the halls together if there was the slim chance they’d get put on patrols on the same night.

 

She also felt excited for classes to resume. Having a week off was lovely, and only having to do a few bits of homework was even nicer, as there wasn’t a day that normally went by that she wouldn’t be doing homework or study outside of her classes. But nonetheless, attending her classes stimulated her and engaged her more than doing no work during the holidays did. She wanted to get back to doing essays, listening to lectures, completing her homework -- everything that came with classwork. It had made her smile when she’d told Draco that exact feeling and he’d agreed with her completely.

 

To commemorate the last day of break, the both of them had decided on spending the day down by the lake once more. Too eager to actually go to breakfast to get a head start on the day, she had forgotten to bring her coat and scarf, both of which would be essential to keep the persistent chill away. While Draco was eating his pancakes he’d made a comment on how cold she’d be outside, and offered his own coat but she refused and said she’d get it once they’d finished eating.

  
They parted in the Entrance Hall, as Draco left the large front doors and Hermione made her way up the many flights of dreaded stairs back to the seventh floor. Luck had been on her side, as she’d gotten to the common room and into her dormitory in record time, but things stopped looking up for her when she exited the common room and almost bumped into Professor Babbling.

 

The Professor insisted on talking to Hermione about Ancient Runes, oblivious to all the body language Hermione presented that she  _ had  _ to be somewhere else. Never one to be rude to any of her teachers, Hermione smiled stiffly and listened, adding in the occasional “yes”, or “I think so too” when appropriate. By the time Professor Babbling bid her farewell, Hermione had already kept Draco waiting close to twenty minutes. Her legs were burning when she finally got to the ground floor, having ran down the stairs in rapid time, and she quickly made her way outside. She was instantly grateful for getting her coat and scarf though, as the wind was chilly and bit at her cheeks and nose, her face being the only part of her exposed to the elements.

 

Walking to the Lake was almost routine to her now, and she picked through the familiar path but stopped dead when she neared the tree and couldn’t spot Draco anywhere. She looked around, thinking perhaps he was maybe walking the perimeter of the lake but he was nowhere to be seen. Surely she hadn’t been  _ so _ long that he’d decided to leave? Her brows were furrowed as she turned on the spot and looked everywhere, and finally a minute later, she saw a figure emerge near the Forbidden Forest. Her eyes widened and she quickly walked forward, knowing that it was Draco. When she wasn’t too far away she broke into a jog and stopped just a foot away from him. “Are you okay?” She asked in rush and looked him up and down to make sure he wasn’t injured.

  
“I’m fine,” he responded, but his voice sounded dull and lifeless.

 

She looked him in the eye and saw how upset he looked in comparison to how cheerful he had been at breakfast time. “What happened? Why were you in the Forest?” She asked. 

 

“I just took a walk,” he answered. “Wanted to see if I could find some creatures, but I couldn’t,” he shrugged. “Where were you?”

 

“Professor Babbling stopped me,” Hermione said but still looked at him in concern. Was he just upset that he hadn’t seen anything in the Forest? She wouldn’t have picked him as a person to go by himself, not after what had occurred in their first year; but then again, he had changed since then. “Let’s go in again,” she announced, not wanting him to be sullen. Not today of all days. “We’ll find something to see,” she said and walked passed him to the trees.

 

“No, it’s fine, really,” Draco tried to stop her but she brushed his hand away when he tried to reach for her arm. “It’s boring, we can just go sit by the lake.”

 

She raised a brow at him and shook her head. “You didn’t see anything before, so now we will,” she said. “Come on,” she said, and plucked up her Gryffindor courage to face the trees once more and enter the Forest, not knowing for sure if he would follow her instantly. It only took a few seconds before another set of feet apart from her own were crunching on the leaves and twigs, and he appeared by her side, looking down at the ground as they walked. He didn’t speak, so she didn’t either. Thankfully, it wasn’t as dark in the Forest as it had been every other unfortunate time she’d had to enter it. Remembering what she’d had to do the last time she’d been in there made her heart ache, thinking of riding the Thestrals with her friends to the Ministry, leading to having to watch Sirius die before her eyes. It was a vision that always stuck with her and had haunted her dreams in the weeks following the incident in the Ministry, as well as cause her physical pain from the curse Dolohov had aimed her way.

 

Forcing the memory out of her mind, she kept walking, and reached out to grab Draco’s hand tightly, using him to ground her to reality. She looked at him and found he’d already been staring at her, his jaw taut, and she brushed her thumb over the back of his hand.

 

She didn’t know how long they’d been walking, but she was ready to stop, especially after climbing seven flights of stairs several times already that morning. Just as she had been thinking about wanting to stop and turn back, admitting defeat on not finding anything in the Forest like Draco had already told her, her feet came to a standstill when she saw something through the trees. Several glittering white eyes were staring out at her and Draco, and her fingers tensed in his hand.

 

“I told you there was nothing here,” Draco announced quickly, his voice shaking slightly, and when she looked at him, she saw his other hand at the back of his neck, rubbing. “Let’s just go,” he muttered, avoiding her eyes.

 

Hermione knew exactly how he was acting. Muttering and avoiding eye-contact? She felt, with a growing grief, that Draco knew exactly what was staring at them, just as much as she did. “There are things here,” she said softly, and dropped his hand to move closer to a Thestral who had pushed through the foliage to investigate.

 

She reached the tall, skeletal horse and eyed its huge leathery wings before she turned back to Draco whose lips were slightly parted, eyes wide. “You see them too?” He asked quietly and she only nodded her head. “I didn’t… I wouldn’t have thought you could.” His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him.

 

She outstretched her hand to him and waited patiently until he decided to walk forward. “They’re okay. They’re not like any of the myths are,” she assured him, and to prove it, lifted her hand to the horse’s head and placed it on the exposed muzzle. “They’re extremely intelligent,” she murmured, almost to herself as she looked the Thestral in the eye, thinking of just how much she owed the animals.

 

“I haven’t come this close before,” he admitted. She didn’t encourage him to extend his hand to the Thestral, as she recalled how nervous she’d been around one the first time she’d been brought to them. “I saw them at the start of the year… Pulling the carriages,” he said and Hermione’s heart broke hearing his voice waver. “I didn’t know what they were, so I just didn’t look… Then I came here to pass some time while you were inside just then, and I saw them again,” he breathed out. “I ran for it… I didn’t know what to do.”

 

“That’s perfectly normal,” she told him, dropping her hand from the Thestral’s muzzle, and it walked away towards a thatch of bushes to their right. “Everyone gets scared and confused over something new. Especially something as new as seeing what’s been pulling us in the carriages since second year,” she gave him a reassuring smile and stepped closer.

 

He was completely tensed up, and she placed her hand on his chest. “I don’t like that I can see them,” he said quietly, and looked down at her, his eyes full of grief.

 

“Draco…” She breathed and pulled him tightly into a hug. “I know you don’t. No-one wants to be able to see them, but you learn to move on,” she said and looked up at him. “I promise you that,” she said and raised her hand to his cheek. “Look at me,” she murmured and waited until he did. “When I saw Sirius Black die, it was horrible. I’d never  _ ever _ thought I’d be witness to death, and seeing it was...surreal, and horrific, and it  _ stayed _ with me. I wasn’t even close to him, but I cried for him, and for Harry, and everyone who was close to him. And I cried because  _ I  _ had seen it…” She stopped talking and watched as his eyes stared intently down at her, his jaw still clenched, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat with every tight swallow. “You don’t need to feel guilty about it,” she assured him, and couldn’t help but wonder just who he had seen die. She couldn’t even think of a possibility, but wouldn’t ask him. If it was something he wanted her to know, he would have told her.

 

“That still doesn’t mend the fact that I saw death,” he spoke. “And that I can see _ them _ ,” he gestured to the small herd of Thestrals that had come into their view. “I  _ hate _ it… I don’t want to see them, or remember what happened.”

 

“No-one does,” she reminded him and placed her other hand on his other cheek. “You need to remember that just because it happened to someone else, doesn’t mean you can’t be upset,” she said, her own voice starting to falter. “It doesn’t mean that you can’t be angry, or wish you’d done something different. You need to remember that it isn’t your fault any of it happened.” She stared so intensely into his eyes,  _ needing _ him to know everything would work out. “And these Thestrals?” She gestured to them. “They’re not a bad omen. They’re not something to be afraid of. You know what they are? They are proof that  _ you _ made it and that  _ you _ are alive and conquered every obstacle after you saw death.”

 

He didn’t speak, and lifted his hands to her shoulders and pulled her closer. His eyes closed as he rest his forehead against hers and she could feel his shaky breath exhaled against her nose.

 

“Do you want to come and see them?” She asked quietly after several minutes of standing together, holding him tightly.

 

He nodded gently and then stood up straight. She moved first and walked slowly to one of the Thestrals that stood closest to them, and she reached her hand out, palm flat. She remembered back to when she’d been seven and her parents had taken her out to a riding school where she’d gotten to ride a small pony. And here she was, ten years later and greeting a completely  _ different _ type of horse, in a world she’d only dreamt of as a little girl.

 

“They’re so much bigger close up,” Draco said as he moved in and reached his hand out too. The Thestral snorted and turned its head to Hermione, dipping it low so she could scratch between its ears. “And their wings…”

 

She smiled at him and let him marvel over the creatures as she patted the one that was insisting on getting scratched.

 

Draco jumped forward a step in shock, scaring Hermione too. She looked at what had frightened him and smiled when she saw one of the Thestral’s foals nuzzling into Draco’s back. “It likes you,” she grinned.

 

He looked back at the baby too and slowly put his hand down to pat its neck. When the foal made a high pitched call and stomped its tiny hooves, Draco laughed quietly and grinned at it, warming Hermione’s heart as she watched.

 

She could help him overcome these things, she just needed to help him know that  _ he _ could help himself too. 


	28. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me! 
> 
> I recommend listening to Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber for the last scene of the chapter. We hope you enjoy and thank you for the love and reviews! :)

After the Easter holidays had ended, Hermione threw herself back into her studies, as did Draco. For the first time in all her years at Hogwarts, she had someone who wanted to study as often as she did. When Hermione had realized that exams were just a little less than two months away, she had let out a small shriek that nearly sent Draco toppling off his chair in the library. After she’d apologized, she had told him of her realization and though he wholeheartedly agreed they should start preparing then, she noticed a lack of enthusiasm in his tone. They met as often as they could during breaks, free periods and mealtimes to either study in their Room or the library, but it had only taken two days of studying in their Room for Hermione to realize that it was not the best method, as it was hard to resist snogging him senseless when they were completely alone. Draco had -- predictably -- not been too happy about the change in scenery, but agreed in the end. 

 

“I should have started studying  _ weeks  _ ago,” she hissed as she flipped through the first few chapters of  _ A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration.  _

 

“As if you won’t pass every exam,” Draco said dryly, flipping through his notes stiffly. He’d been in a sour mood ever since she’d limited their study sessions to the library, but she’d brushed off his attitude and continued pouring over her notes and books. 

 

It was a Sunday evening, and with Harry, Ron and Ginny at Quidditch practice they were free to stay in the library for a few hours. 

 

“Are you ready for the Apparition test tomorrow?” he asked after a long stretch of silence. 

 

Hermione snorted and shook her head. She paused in her writing to look up at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’m ready but I’m a nervous wreck.” She bit her lip at the thought of having to take the test the following afternoon before adding, “Will you be going?” 

 

Draco shook his head and looked back down at his parchment. “I won’t be seventeen until the fifth of June.” He paused afterwards before he cocked his head and glanced up at her again. “When’s your birthday?” 

 

“Nineteenth of September,” she told him, realizing that until that point, they hadn’t had the faintest idea when the other’s birthday was. 

 

“I had no idea I was dating an older woman,” he joked, not realizing the vernacular he had just used. Hermione’s eyes widened; not that she minded the terminology, she just hadn’t expected him to say it directly. The two hadn’t exactly addressed their status. 

 

“Dating,” she repeated faintly. 

 

“I mean,” Draco stammered, rubbing at the back of his neck. “That is if you… We kind of are… Right?” 

Hermione couldn’t bite back the smile that had overtaken her lips, and she was sure there was a red tint to her cheeks. “No,” she said quickly. “We are -- dating that is -- aren’t we?” 

 

“I’d quite like to think so, yes,” he breathed, still unable to meet her eyes directly. She knew he still felt embarrassed about his slip of the tongue, even though he had nothing to be embarrassed about. 

 

She smiled at him reassuringly before returning to her notes, with Draco following suit not long after. They worked in silence, her feet nestled in between Draco’s under the table and their table completely covered in books and rolls of parchment, until Hermione happened to glance down at her watch and saw that Quidditch practice would be ending. 

 

“We better go,” she said hastily and immediately began collecting her belongings. “Harry and Ron will be making their way back to the castle any minute.” 

 

Draco nodded and started to gather his textbooks as well. When they were ready to go, their bags slung over their shoulders and the table clear for the next students, she saw him stop out of the corner of her eye. Hermione turned around to face him, concern written all over her face. Draco had been even more sullen since the Easter Holidays ended, and she had attributed it to the lack of freedom they had now that everyone had returned. She too was disappointed that they couldn’t sit out by the lake on sunny afternoons or eat together at meal times, but something was telling her that wasn’t bothering him right now; something told her it was more than that. 

 

“Draco?” she said quietly, taking a step closer to him. 

 

“Why is Potter so insistent on finding out what I’m doing?” he asked through clenched teeth. 

 

Hermione offered him a sad smile and let out a heavy sigh. She gripped the back of the closest chair and let her weight rest on it. “Because Harry is...well, Harry. Once his mind is made up, there’s no stopping him,” she said with a quiet laugh, thinking back to all the times she had told Harry not to do something, only for him to turn around and do exactly that. But this was different now, and she could admit it was because she had gotten involved with Draco. She’d grown protective of him, and after getting to know Draco Malfoy, she’d come to hope with all of her heart that she was right and that Harry’s suspicions were completely inaccurate. “I think he just wants to prove that you’re...up to something bad.” 

 

He didn’t respond to this, instead he just looked even more furious. Hermione reached out to take his hand in hers. When he felt her fingers lace through his, he looked up at her. She smiled at him and said gently, “Harry’s been wrong plenty of times, Draco. I can’t tell you the number of times he’s thought Snape was up to something, and it’s never been Snape. He’ll be wrong this time, too.” 

 

Draco didn’t meet her eyes as he withdrew his hand and readjusted his bag. “We should get going. I’m sure Potter’s nearly back by now.” 

 

Hermione didn’t have time to respond, let alone stop him before he stalked past her and headed for the library doors. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione stared blankly at the pamphlet clenched tightly in her hands. They were just hours away from taking their Apparition test, and on top of that, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her cryptic conversation with Draco the night before. It certainly didn’t help that Draco had been all Harry could talk about that morning, and she couldn’t deny he made some good arguments. But she needed to focus on the Apparition test, and it was her desire to do so that made her snap at her best friend. 

 

“Harry, just drop it already,” she said irritably. “Stop fretting over Malfoy so much, and start fretting over how you’re going to get the…you know.” She didn’t want to say outloud that Harry was supposed to retrieve a memory from a Professor, not when they were sitting in the courtyard where students passed frequently. 

 

Ron had hunched behind her to conceal himself as a girl with hair a similar shade to Lavender’s headed towards them. Hermione sighed and scooted away from him. “It’s  _ not  _ Lavender, Ron.” 

 

As Ron flushed pink and sat up, now a few inches away from her, Harry took a note from the girl and thanked her. Only when she was out of sight, did Harry unscroll the parchment. “It can’t be from Dumbledore...we won’t have a meeting until I get the memory,” he murmured. 

 

After a brief moment, Harry handed the parchment to her with an exasperated look on his face. When Hermione read the hastily scrawled note, she understood why. “Hagrid can’t be serious…” she said, letting Ron take the note from her. “Does he have any idea how much trouble we would be in if we got caught?” 

 

“And all because his giant pet spider died?” Ron said, sounding as annoyed as she did. “Hagrid’s lost it!”

 

Harry looked deep in thought and she knew what he was thinking. “Harry, you mustn’t! Security’s been tightened and if you were to get caught -- it’s not worth it,” she said as calmly as she could. 

 

“I know,” he said after a moment. “I should at least write him back and tell him we’re sorry, yeah?” 

 

Ron nodded and Hermione sighed with relief. “You know, Potions will probably be empty today. You could have another go at Slughorn…” 

 

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, as if I’ll get lucky this time, Hermione,” he said scathingly. 

 

Hermione nearly fell off the stone bench when Ron -- who now looked dazed and a bit pale -- grabbed her arm firmly. “How have we not thought of it by now?” he whispered. “Harry… Luck! You’ve got that bottle of Felix Felicis!” 

 

She felt her jaw slacken when the realization smacked her in the face. How had none of them thought of that, indeed? It was so glaringly obvious now! Harry didn’t answer, nor seem too enthusiastic about the idea of using his liquid luck for this task. In the end, he agreed to use the potion if he couldn’t get Slughorn to crack in Potions class that day. 

 

Hermione began to make sure she had her bag, her jacket and her pamphlet when they saw a group of girls enter the courtyard, two of them looking particularly unhappy. Ron had taken notice to their state, commenting on it as they passed. 

 

“Those are the Montgomery sisters,” she told the boys flatly. “Their little brother was just attacked by a werewolf and died in St. Mungo’s, so yes Ronald, I’d say they look a bit unhappy.” 

 

Harry and Ron stared grimly at one another. Hermione bore her eyes into Harry until he turned and looked at her. The bell rang overhead, making her jump. “You need to get that memory, Harry. These attacks...all the people who’ve gone missing, who’ve died...it’s Voldemort’s fault, isn’t it?” 

 

Instead of addressing what she’d just said, Harry wished them both good luck. She wished him luck as well before she left with Ron, her knees quivering with every step she took. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione squealed with delight as she burst out of the building where the test had been held, her license clutched tightly in her hands. Ron was still inside, and Hermione wished that Draco had been able to take the test that day so she could share her excitement with him. While she waited, her thoughts drifted back to what Draco was doing and how Potions class was going along, assuming he was in attendance. 

 

Ron emerged a few minutes later, red-faced and furious looking. When he told her he’d just barely failed -- ”Half an eyebrow, Hermione! Can you believe that?” -- she patted his arm and reminded him he could re-sit the test with Harry. He was quiet company as they made their way back up to the castle, and though she felt bad he had failed, she was thankful for the silence he was providing. 

 

When they arrived in the common room, she found Harry already waiting for them. She told him she passed and he offered his congratulations, along with his condolences to Ron after they told Harry he had failed. The three set off to dinner, with Harry filling them in on his failed attempt with Slughorn and how miserable Draco had looked during Potions. Of course this stuck in Hermione’s mind as she pushed around her peas and took only a few sips of pumpkin juice now and then. Ron, however, had steered their conversation back to Slughorn. 

 

“This means you’ll use Felix Felicis, right?” he asked, nudging Harry in the side. 

 

“I said I would, didn’t I?” he replied. 

 

The three finished their dinner and headed back to the common room. Once Slughorn had gotten a chance to go back to his office, Harry would take the Potion and head down to take another shot at retrieving the memory. Hermione passed the time by going over her study schedule to make sure she was staying on track, and ticked off items on her extensively long ‘to-do’ list. It wasn’t until the sun had nearly set that Harry went off to retrieve his cloak and the tiny bottle of potion, with her and Ron bringing up the rear. 

 

“Well,” she said, a few seconds after Harry had drank a bit of the potion. “How do you feel?” 

 

Harry didn’t answer straight away. He stood there, grinning widely at them; he looked as though he was ready to take on the world. “Fantastic,” he said finally. “I’m going to Hagrid’s.” 

 

Hermione looked at Ron with worry. This wasn’t part of the plan. They had decided he was specifically  _ not  _ going to go to Hagrid’s. But no matter how much they insisted he needed to visit Slughorn, Harry shook his head and told them Hagrid’s was where he needed to be. They chased after him as he slipped the cloak over him and left the boys’ dormitory. They would have been able to keep up with him if it weren’t for Lavender blocking their way. She looked positively wounded that Hermione and Ron were leaving the boys’ dormitory together before she burst into tears and told him that they were through. 

 

Ron was still stammering after she had bolted out of the common room, and Hermione merely shook her head. “Oh, Ron…” she said with a soft laugh. “Bet you’re happy to be rid of her?” All Ron could do was nod. 

 

* * *

 

“I’ll give him until midnight, then I’m going to bed,” Hermione said matter-of-factly to an almost unconscious Ron. “I’ve got a quiz in Ancient Runes tomorrow and I really shouldn’t be up late.” 

 

Ron grunted in his semi-conscious state and drew the blanket tighter around him. Hermione rolled her eyes and glanced down at her watch again. She was getting a bit worried about Harry now; surely it shouldn’t have taken him this long, but she had no idea if he had even went down to Hagrid’s or had managed to find Professor Slughorn at all; she was only forced to wait. The common room was empty by the time midnight came around, and when it was nearly ten past and Harry still had not returned, Hermione collected her things, woke Ron to tell him to head up to bed, and climbed the stairs to her own dormitory. 

 

* * *

 

Harry refused to tell them about the previous night when they were in Potions class together, but Hermione noticed that Professor Slughorn was quieter, and less chipper than he normally was. When they arrived in Charms and took seats in the back, Harry cast the Muffliato spell and dived right into the events of last night. He told them all about Aragog’s burial, how he had finally gotten the memory from Slughorn and how he had gone to Dumbledore’s afterwards. 

 

Hermione sat next to him, completely dumbfounded and impressed by the way Harry had smooth talked their Professor. Ron’s mouth hung open slightly as he waved his wand carelessly at the ceiling. “So Dumbledore is really letting you go with him…” he said faintly, still amazed by the news. 

 

Harry nodded, a grin still on his face. He’d been very excited about the idea of helping Dumbledore find the rest of Voldemort’s horcruxes. 

 

“I’m not saying you don’t deserve to Harry, but isn’t it dangerous? Not to mention it won’t be easy,” she said as she tugged at Ron’s arm for he had been making it snow. When Lavender caught sight, Hermione let go immediately and reverted her gaze back to Harry. Ron, however, had not noticed and proceeded to brush a pile of snowflakes off her shoulder, causing Lavender to burst into tears as she had done last night. 

 

Hermione, seeing the confused look on Harry’s face, elaborated. “She broke up with Ron last night. She saw us coming out of the dormitory after you left under the cloak.” 

 

“Right,” Harry said. “Happier now though, aren’t you Ron?” 

 

Ron grinned guiltily and shrugged his shoulders. “I feel bad for her, but yeah. I’m glad that’s over with.” 

 

Hermione scoffed and shook her head. “You two weren’t the only ones, Ron. Apparently Ginny broke up with Dean last night as well.”

 

At this, she noticed the way Harry perked up and gave her his full attention. Ron, fearing that Lavender was still glaring at him, had shoved his nose into his textbook and had not noticed the keen interest on his best friend’s face. 

 

* * *

 

When they returned to the common room for their break they saw Katie Bell, standing in the middle of the room, hugging her friends eagerly. Harry darted towards them eagerly and cut his way into the circle of people. 

 

“Katie!” he said over the squeals of delight. “Glad to see you’re back.” 

 

Katie’s friends gave her one last round of hugs before slinking off so she could talk to the three of them alone. Katie looked surprised by Harry’s words but shot him a friendly smile nonetheless. “Thanks, Harry,” she said thoughtfully. “I was sorry to hear about the last Quidditch match, though.” 

 

Harry grimaced but seemed to have more than just his Quidditch team on his mind. Hermione inhaled sharply, knowing what was coming, but she too, was curious about what exactly had happened to Katie. Harry asked her about the day she got the necklace but all she could tell them was that she remembered walking into the bathroom at the Three Broomsticks and that was it. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she told him before gathering her books and dashing out of the portrait hole. 

 

Hermione, Harry and Ron plopped into chairs by the fire. “Well,” she said. “It had to have been a female that imperiused Katie.” 

 

“Come off it, Hermione,” Harry said irritably, causing her to give him a startled look. “We already know someone who nicked some of the Polyjuice Potion at the beginning of the year.” 

 

Hermione pursed her lips but otherwise said nothing. Not only was she growing tired of arguing this point with Harry, but she was slowly beginning to think that the evidence was starting to stack against Draco -- something that didn’t sit well with her. After all she wanted nothing more than for Harry to be wrong about this. When Harry mentioned having another go at the Room of Requirement with Felix on his side, she muttered it would be a waste of time before returning to her notes for Ancient Runes. 

 

* * *

 

When Hermione arrived at Ancient Runes twenty minutes later, she was disappointed to see Draco hadn’t arrived yet. As the minutes passed, her heart sank as she realized he wasn’t coming. Not only did he miss a quiz, which Professor Babbling would likely give him detention for, but it meant that he was probably shut away in the Room. Since Harry had the memory now, there wasn’t much else besides schoolwork and Quidditch to occupy his time, leaving him free to tail after Draco as much as possible. 

 

After Runes she went to the library to try and get a bit of studying done. While she worked, she would occasionally glance up to see if Draco would be walking towards her, but he never was. The bell rang and she was forced to abandon her table and head off to lunch. On her way out, just past the Charms section, she heard two voices whispering. Hermione stopped, hidden by the end of the large bookcase and strained to make out what the two people were saying. 

 

“I know he’s started to act up again,” a female voice hissed. “Draco’s not exactly subtle.” 

 

 _Parkinson_ , Hermione thought to herself. She shuffled a bit closer to their voices, still keeping herself hidden from their view. So Draco’s behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed by his friends either…

 

“Have you tried talking to him again?” Blaise asked, and much to Hermione’s surprise, she found herself in awe at the level of concern in the boy’s tone. Pansy must have given him a non-verbal reply as she didn’t hear anything.  

 

It was when Hermione had decided to walk away that she heard Pansy say, “The last time I asked him about what he’s always up to, he told me it was none of my business and stalked off.” 

 

The warning bell sound through the castle, making Hermione jump. She heard Pansy and Blaise curse under their breath and before they could discover her, she dashed off towards the library doors. All through lunch she mulled over the conversation between the two Slytherins. It definitely was not just her that noticed a change in his attitude, and he wasn’t opening up to his friends. Whether this was a good move on his part or not, she had no idea. Her heart ached for Draco as she wondered if he knew how much his friends cared. 

 

* * *

 

At breakfast the following morning, Hermione perked up when she saw Draco walking in with Theodore Nott. Zabini and Parkinson followed closely behind the two, casting furtive looks at Draco and whispering to one another discreetly. The four of them sat at the end of the Slytherin table, separating them from the rest of the Slytherin students. Hermione kept her eye on Draco for the duration of breakfast; she noticed the way he was hardly conversing with his friends, ignoring their stares, and pushing food around on his plate but not really touching it. When the bell rang some twenty minutes later, Hermione said a hasty good-bye to Harry and Ron and bolted for Arithmancy. 

 

Hermione was already at their usual table when Draco arrived to class. He looked disgruntled, his features all scrunched up and his lips bent into a scowl. He hardly glanced at her when he sat down and let his bag fall to the floor with a loud thud. 

 

“Morning,” she greeted pleasantly. “Missed you yesterday.” 

 

Draco’s lips quirked upwards quickly before returning to its scowl. “Did you now?” When Hermione shot him a glare, Draco chuckled and added, “Missed you too, Granger.” 

 

Professor Vector set them to work and perched herself behind her desk to grade papers for her other classes. As they usually did, Hermione tore off a spare of piece of parchment and scribbled her note before sliding it over to him. 

 

_ You missed an Ancient Runes quiz yesterday, Draco.  _

 

 _I know_ , he replied. _Professor Babbling is letting me make it up later this week._

 

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, a look of disbelief on her face.  _ No detention?  _ She wrote. 

 

Draco replied with a sly smile and a shake of his head. Hermione pursed her lips, but was pleased to hear he wouldn’t be sitting in detention  _ again.  _ They concentrated on their classwork, as the theories they were currently learning were the most difficult so far. Draco rest his foot besides hers like he did most class periods and she couldn’t help the smile that flitted across her lips every so often.

 

* * *

 

“Why do  _ I  _ have to go first?” Draco whined as they lay on the bed in their room, his arm around her shoulders and her head resting on his chest. It was Friday evening, and Hermione had been looking forward to this small break from schoolwork, even if it was just a few hours in the Room with Draco. 

 

“Because I asked you first,” she replied with a laugh and teasing smile. She had unbuttoned his shirt just to touch his bare skin. Her fingers trailed through the tufts of hair that ran from his bellybutton to the top of his boxers poking out from his trousers, and over the slopes of his torso. 

 

He sighed through his nose and nestled her closer. “Fine,” he said, though his tone suggested he was more amused opposed to annoyed. “It was the night you stopped the fight between Theo, Blaise and I. Afterwards, you told me you didn’t hate me.” 

 

“Really?” she asked. “That’s when you knew you liked me?” 

 

Draco nodded and kissed the top of her head. She smiled into his chest and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I remember that night,” she said quietly. Draco tensed beside her, but before she could continue on about it, he said, “Alright, Granger, your turn. Let’s hear it.” 

 

Hermione couldn’t suppress the giggle that escaped her mouth. Draco tilted his head down towards hers, a frown on his face. “When we were down by the Lake during Christmas holidays. And the Giant Squid was pelting us with our rocks--”

 

Draco groaned loudly, cutting her off. “Does it have to be  _ that  _ moment?” 

 

She swatted at his chest lightly and chuckled under her breath. “It was the first time I had seen you genuinely laugh and smile. And… I had fun that day, after you found me at the Lake. I wasn’t having the best of days that day.” 

 

He fell silent at her response, but she felt his hold around her shoulders tighten. She tilted her head upwards and gave him a brief peck on the cheek. Draco lowered his head to meet her lips with his, his free hand coming up to curl around the back of her neck. He kissed her so deeply, tenderly, _slowly_ , that she felt breath catch in the back of her throat and her heart skip a beat. She felt herself melting under his hold, as her fingertips tried to pull him closer. He slipped his hand from her neck to the top of her shirt and began to undo the buttons on her shirt with less of a struggle this time around. His lips moved from her mouth to her jaw to her neck and when his mouth started to travel towards her breasts, she let herself lie back and relish every brush of lips, every scrape of his teeth and every flick of his tongue. 

 

The common room was quiet and still when Hermione arrived at half-past eleven. Everyone seemed to have gone to bed, everyone except Harry and Ron. Hermione joined them in the armchairs closest to the fireplace and hoped they wouldn’t notice her swollen lips or the red tint in her cheeks. She had said goodbye to Draco not too long ago, and she still felt like she was floating amongst the clouds. 

 

“Hermione, have you been in the library all this time?” Ron asked after realizing she had sat down, his Wizard’s chess set perched on the table in front of him. 

 

“Er, yes, I was,” she answered, deciding that was the easiest excuse to go with. 

 

Ron frowned at her and said, “You missed lunch and dinner today. Don’t go overworking yourself over exams.” 

 

She gave Ron an affectionate smile; his caring nature and desire to take care of those he loved was one of the things she loved most about him. Even though she had no desire to be with him romantically, she knew he was going to make an excellent husband and father some day. Hermione waved her hand dismissively and said, “I stopped at the kitchens earlier, don’t worry.” Which wasn’t a lie, because she had in fact gone by the kitchens to fetch dinner for her and Draco. 

 

“Are we ready to do this, then?” Harry asked. 

 

Since the news that Harry would be joining Dumbledore to hunt down the rest of Voldemort’s horcruxes, Hermione had told them she knew of a way to get a book about them and that it was in Dumbledore’s office. When Harry asked how she knew this, she told him Dumbledore had vaguely mentioned it during Easter holiday. It was only a few days ago that they agreed to meet in the common room that night to summon the book and start learning everything they could about horcruxes. 

 

Both she and Ron nodded. The latter got up to stand between the staircases leading to the dormitories to keep an eye out for any students coming down, while Harry went over the window and opened it just enough to let the book in. Hermione raised her wand, shut her eyes briefly to empty her mind and in a determined voice said, “Accio Secrets of the Darkest Arts!” 

 

The three stood frozen, waiting to see if they could hear the book approaching, or if it would even come. The seconds seemed to be dragging on forever, when Harry stepped closer to the window and poked his head out. 

 

“It’s coming!” he said. “It worked, Hermione, you did it.” 

 

Hermione smiled proudly to herself as she and Ron joined Harry at the window. Sure enough, she saw the book zooming towards them. Harry caught in his hands and merely stared at it, his expression unreadable. She moved closer to him and took the book from his hands. It was quite heavy and looked to be several hundred pages long. The cover was torn and the letters were hardly readable. She tucked the book under her arm and took his hand in hers. “Now we’ll know everything we need to, Harry.” 

 

* * *

 

The conversation she’d had with Draco in their Room on Friday night stuck with Hermione through the weekend. After herself, Harry and Ron had summoned the book from Dumbledore’s office, she had laid awake replaying her and Draco’s conversation in her mind.

 

She remembered that day he spoke about… She remembered his mauled hands, the venom in his voice as he argued with his friends, and the defeated look on his face while she healed his nose. They were so different back then...the first half of sixth year felt like a lifetime ago. Until Draco brought up that memory, she had forgotten how cold and snarky he used to be with her, how closed off he had once been. But looking back, she realized she must have gotten through to him that night. 

 

Over the course of the weekend, Hermione found herself being more affectionate towards Draco than she usually was in private. Sometimes she’d kiss his temple, or come up behind him while he worked on an essay and wrap her arms around his shoulders. The first few times she did this, he had questioned her reasoning behind it, but she merely shrugged her shoulders and said, “Because I felt like it.” 

 

The thought to bring up his latest disappearance flitted in and out of her mind, but she hadn’t actually said anything. Though the dark circles had returned under his eyes and his skin was starting to look pale again, his mood had been pleasant the entire weekend, and she was almost ashamed to admit to herself that she was selfish in keeping things peaceful between them. 

 

She didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight on Sunday night, thinking of ways she could bring up the topic without Draco possibly getting defensive. Monday morning came much too quickly for Hermione’s liking and it was with a slight pounding in her temples and heavy eyes that she made her way to breakfast with Harry and Ron. The Great Hall was filled with its usual noisy chatter, only making her headache worse. She gulped down a bowl of cereal and some marmalade before mumbling that she was going to class to Harry and Ron, who merely raised a hand in farewell and continued eating their breakfast. 

 

Her decision to stay up and brainstorm was backfiring on her; she hadn’t expected to be this irritable. The halls were empty and quiet as she walked to Ancient Runes, though that did nothing to dull her headache. When she arrived on the sixth floor and got to the corridor that held her classroom, she could see a spot of blonde hair. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, her stomach in knots. She was just a few feet away when Draco must have heard her footsteps, as glanced up and his lips broke into a smile. 

 

“You’re here early,” he said when she planted herself beside him, leaning against the wall as he was. 

 

_ If there’s a perfect moment to do it, it’s now.  _ She told herself. The corridor was abandoned, save the two of them. Students wouldn’t be leaving breakfast for another half hour or so. They had time. 

 

“So are you,” she responded, though it came out as more of a question. 

 

Draco shrugged. “I wasn’t that hungry.” he told her, though he didn’t meet her eyes. 

 

“Well, I’m glad you’re here because there’s something I need to talk to you about,” she said, hugging her books tighter to her chest. 

 

“If it’s about you-know-what,” he said through gritted teeth, his brows knitting together as he stared angrily at the floor. 

A surge of anger sparked inside at his reaction. “It  _ is  _ about you-know-what, Draco! I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I can’t just watch you go through this and do--”

 

“Why?” he spat, the harshness of his tone rendering her speechless for a moment. “ _ Why  _ can’t you give me that courtesy, Granger? Why do you refuse to  _ let this go?”  _

 

“Even your friends are worrying about you again!” she snapped, ignoring his question entirely. “I overheard Parkinson and Zabini in the library, you know.” At this point, she didn’t care if knew. Maybe he  _ needed  _ to know. 

 

Draco’s mouth snapped shut, his lips in a white, thin line, his hands curled tightly into fists as his side. “Eavesdropping again, were you?” he said quietly. 

 

“I  _ happened  _ to be leaving when I heard them,” she hissed. When he didn’t respond to that, she sighed and rubbed her temples.  _ You’re not supposed to be arguing with him… _

 

“Draco,” she whispered, taking his hand in hers. She stared at the back of his hand; there were still traces of fading scars. It had been months since she’d seen him with his hands torn up. “I care about you, and...so do your friends. I could hear it in their voices, the way they spoke. You don’t want me to be involved, but that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me about it.” 

 

Before he could answer, the bell signaling the end of breakfast sounded throughout the castle. Draco looked at her, his expression blank and his cold and said, “Just leave it, Granger.” 

 

* * *

 

They got over their little spat rather quickly, their normal study schedule resuming on Wednesday. She had been a bit shocked when he walked into Arithmancy with a banana nut muffin and a chocolate scone, both for her

 

_ I’m sorry about the other morning.  _ He’d written in a note.  _ Pansy, Blaise and Theo had been on my case about... _ that _ all weekend.  _

 

Saturday morning, Hermione made her way to breakfast alone. She had been too hungry and impatient to wait for Harry and Ron to get up. She had a whole day of studying planned with Draco, and with Harry preoccupied with Ginny and Quidditch, they would have nothing to worry about. There were few students in the Hall this early in the morning, allowing her to enjoy breakfast without the usual loud chatter. She went over her study schedule while she ate, as if she didn’t already know it by heart. “Charms...Defense Against the Dark Arts...Herbology,” she muttered to herself before finishing off the last of her oatmeal. 

 

It was nearly eight o’clock by the time she’d finished, giving her half an hour to spare before she was due to meet Draco in their Room. He’d been extremely patient with her these past few weeks with the limited amount of time they spent in their room, her insistence on quizzing each other and dealing with her occasional break down. Besides, she was quite happy to snog him as much as he desired after they had finished their studying. 

 

She arrived at their Room ten minutes early and decided to leave the bed out of the picture for now. Perhaps they would both concentrate better without its presence. At exactly eight-thirty, Draco showed up; he looked exhausted again, like he had earlier in the year. 

 

“Morning,” she greeted airily, the table already set up with a tray of tea and biscuits on top. 

 

Draco took her by surprise when instead of returning her verbal greeting, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly for a moment. He pulled back and tilted her chin up before pressing his lips to hers. With one hand splayed across the middle of her back, he brought his other hand up to run through her curls. “Morning,” he said finally, sounding as tired as he looked. 

 

“What was that for?” she asked. 

 

He let go of her then and walked over to the table, dropping his bag on the floor beside his chair. “I’m rarely this affectionate, Granger. Take advantage of it,” he replied playfully, the corners of his lips tugging into a smile. 

 

She laughed and sat down across from him, pulling her Charms notes towards her. “So I’ve noticed,” she said quietly, but just loud enough for him to hear. 

 

When he looked up at her, his head cocked to the side, she smiled innocently and said, “I have work to do, Draco. Let’s do that.” 

 

And that’s exactly what he did. They practiced non-verbal spells for Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, he quizzed her on different magical theories and types of plants. When her stomach wouldn’t stop growling and she was starting to lose her focus, she suggested they stop and take a break. They talked about which exams they were most worried about, and which ones they were confident they would pass. When the teapot was empty and the biscuits were gone, they went back to their books. “I’ve just got a bit of reading to do on remedies for Herbology, and a few theories I want to look over again for Defense,” she told him as he sat down across from her and pulled his star charts closer to him. 

 

While she finished the last of her work for the day, Draco would ask her the occasional question about a particular Rune or Arithmancy problem and she would stop to admire his star charts or ask him a question about Defense. It was nearing mid-afternoon by the time she was satisfied she’d done enough for the day. Draco abandoned his books on the table while she packed hers back into her bag. When she turned around, she saw Draco lying on the bed, which he had apparently wanted back in their room. She smirked and went over to lie down next to him. He pulled her close, sliding one arm around her waist and slipping his hand under her shirt. She felt his thumb running along her side, sending shivers down her spine. When his fingers slipped down towards her hip, she let out an involuntary giggle and jerked away. “I’m ticklish, remember?” 

 

His lips spread into a wicked grin before he lunged on top of her, pressing his legs against her thighs and went for her stomach. Hermione shrieked and wriggled and tried her best to snatch his hands away, but her effort was futile. He discovered the ticklish spot behind her right knee and at the sides of her neck. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, and no matter how hard she tried to catch one of his hands, he was always too quick to move it. Deciding there was only one thing left to do, she reached both of her hands up to grab to his face and bring it down to meet hers. His eyes went wide momentarily before his smirk returned and their lips met. His hands traveled from her hips, up her sides to her breasts and back down her stomach. It was only after several minutes of heated snogging that Hermione broke their kiss and looked up at him longingly. She’d been thinking about going further with him lately, and he’d been so patient with her these past few weeks, she wanted to give him something. 

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, confused as to why she had stopped. 

 

Hermione nodded. Though her hands were shaking slightly, she reached down and toyed with the waistband of his trousers. “I want to…” But instead of finishing her thought and in a rather bold move, she ran her hand down the length of his erection.

 

Draco’s eyes lit up with surprise as he nodded in agreement. “You don’t have to,” he told her gently as he climbed off of her and let her unbutton and zip his trousers. 

 

She shook her head and offered him a smile before tugging down his trousers. She could feel his body tense under her touch. She ran her fingers along the trim of his briefs, her body trembling slightly. “Draco,” she said, feeling slightly embarrassed now. “I want to but I don’t...know what to do.” 

 

Draco smiled, but didn’t poke fun at her or tease her. “It’s easy,” he said softly as he reached his hand down to pull down his briefs. Hermione felt her heart begin to pound against her chest. She’d never actually  _ seen  _ one before. She thought it looked big, and it was bit pink but was the same pale shade as the rest of his body. Draco put his hand over hers and guided it to his member, and moved his hand up and down slowly, until she got the motion downpat. When he let go of her hand, she forced herself to look at his face and saw that his head had fallen back on the pillow and his eyes were shut. 

 

“Tighten your grip just a bit,” he instructed. 

 

“Like this?” she asked as she continued her hand movement. A small moan was his reply, causing her lips to break into a satisfied smile. Feeling a bit more confident now that Draco seemed to be enjoying herself, she picked up her speed and tightened her grip a bit more. Draco arched his hips off the bed, one of his hands tangling itself in her massive curls for support. She nearly lost her grip when a bottle of lotion appeared on the bed next to her. She had stopped momentarily, and Draco smiled shyly at her. “It just...feels good. Not that...this doesn’t, it’s just that--” 

 

“Draco, it’s fine,” she told him, laying a reassuring hand on his chest. “It’s about what feels best for you.” 

 

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t seem to find his words. She pumped a bit of lotion on her hand and when he nodded in approval, she picked up her quick hand movements again. His breathing was beginning to grow shallow and his head had tilted back again. His fingernails were now digging into her bum, as she pumped faster and faster, her grip tight. 

 

“Fuck,” he hissed, bucking his hips upwards and arching his back slightly. 

 

It was a bit difficult with the lotion, she thought, at least when it came to keeping a tight grip. He was firm in her hand, and she could tell he must be growing close to finishing. Her forearm was starting to throb but she continued pumping up and down as fast as she could. Draco was letting out a stream of moans that only encouraged her more. His hand had travelled from her bum to under her shirt and bra. As his fingers pulled and twisted her nipple, she felt her knickers growing wet. 

 

Her entire arm was growing tired at this point, but Draco had stopped the teasing with his fingers and now had a tight grip on her breast. Her movements had slowed a bit, but her grip was stronger now. “Don’t stop…” he panted. She bit down on her lip as if this would help her keep going, but with every passing second his body was growing more and more tense and she’d noticed his moans had ceased. 

 

“Slow down a bit,” he told her, and when she did she saw a sticky white substance trickle down the underside of his member while some of it had spurted on to his stomach. Slowly, she moved her hand up and down a few more times until his gasps had stopped completely, and he lay with his head back and his chest heaving. 

 

Hermione got up off the bed, some of his fluids dripping down her fingers and fetched her wand to clean up the mess. It took Draco a moment to muster the energy to pull up his pants and trousers and when he was done, she laid back down beside him, curling up under his arm. 

 

“Was it okay?” she asked, her voice small. 

 

Draco chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “I can assure you I’ll sleep well tonight, that’s for sure.”    
  


* * *

 

Draco hadn’t turned up for dinner Saturday evening, nor had she seen him around the castle on Sunday. A few months ago, she wouldn’t have thought much of it, but with the way he had been behaving ever since the Easter Holidays ended, she knew he wasn’t off doing homework or lounging around in his common room. Regardless, she spent nearly the entire day studying in the library, while Harry called an impromptu Quidditch practice due to the slightly warmer weather that May had brought, and she hoped that perhaps Draco would turn up at some point. At the end, even though he hadn’t shown up, she had at least accomplished quite a chunk of her study schedule, putting her ahead by a few days. 

 

When Monday rolled around and Draco didn’t attend Arithmancy or Ancient Runes, she began to worry. It was true that Harry had been preoccupied with Ginny lately, now that she was single, but she knew for a fact that he still checked the Map and visited the stretch of the seventh floor corridor that held the Room of Requirement when he could. If Draco wasn’t more careful, he was going to get caught by Harry. It was only a matter of time.

Tuesday’s classes dragged by. Hermione found herself staring down at her watch or blankly at her notes, her mind off wondering when Draco was going to turn up again. After their last class of the day, she headed back to the common room with Harry and Ron in the hopes that she could at least keep Harry occupied long enough that he wouldn’t want to go to the Room of Requirement. She even engaged in their Quidditch talk in between studying and learned that Ron was already suffering from his nerves. 

 

“You do look a little green,” she commented. It was nearing dinner time, and she was eager to see if Draco would finally turn up. She stood up from her armchair and nodded towards the Portrait hole. “Shall we head to dinner now? I’m starving.” Which  _ wasn’t  _ a lie, her stomach had been growling for the past fifteen minutes. 

 

Ron stood up and mumbled, “I’ll meet you down there,” before bolting towards what she figured to be the closest bathroom. 

 

She and Harry left the common room together, and nearly the moment they stepped into the corridor, he withdrew the Map from his hands. Hermione stopped in her tracks and grabbed Harry’s arm, tugging him back sharply. “Harry,  _ no,  _ let’s just go to dinner,” she said fiercely. “According to you, he’s always in the room anyway, right? So what’s the point?” 

 

But Harry ignored her. His eyes were darting around the Map trying to locate Draco. She waited for his confirmation that Harry couldn’t find him anywhere, but it never came. Instead his eyes widened slightly and his jaw slacked. “He’s with Myrtle again…” Harry murmured, looking up at her with a frown. 

 

“What?” she asked so quietly she wasn’t sure Harry had heard her. Why was he with Myrtle? How long had he returned from the Room? And why hadn’t  _ she  _ seen him yet? 

 

“Come on!” Harry said, stuffing the map in his pocket and breaking into a run. 

 

Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm as she realized what Harry was doing. “Harry, stop!” she called after him. He was taller than she was, his legs a bit longer and it took a bit of effort on her part to keep up with him. “Harry, wait!”

 

But Harry didn’t slow down; not when they bounded down a staircase or rounded the next corner. She was panting now, and though she wanted to call out to Harry again, she just didn’t have the lung power at the moment. Harry came to a screeching halt in front of the boys’ bathroom door. Hermione crept up beside him, a glowering look on her face. Harry put a finger to his lips and pushed the door open slightly. 

 

Hermione gasped quietly at the sight before her. There stood Draco, over the sink, his back facing them and his entire body shaking. She knew he was crying. 

 

“Tell me, Draco…” Myrtle whined, gliding around him. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

 

Hermione’s teeth were digging into her bottom lip and her hand was clenched firmly around Harry’s arm. Harry had gone completely still, his eyes fixed on Draco’s shaking form. 

 

“I can’t do it,” he cried, his voice shaking. “It’s not working...nothing I do...but if I don’t do it soon...he’s going to kill me.” 

 

For a split second, Hermione thought her heart had actually stopped. Her breath caught in her throat and her grip on Harry’s arm went limp. Draco let out another sob, bowing his head further over the sink. She felt like she was being stabbed repeatedly in the stomach with every broken sob he let pour out. If only she could hug him right now...hold him and tell him everything would be alright. 

 

Everything that happened next happened so quickly that Hermione didn’t have time to react. Draco had seen them in the mirror, and next thing she knew a stream of light was heading right towards Harry. She shrieked and threw herself forward, landing on the hard stone floors. Harry was on his feet already and shouted Levicorpus at Draco. Hermione had just reached for her wand and was shouting at Harry to stop it when Draco reflected Harry’s spell and a small explosion sounded somewhere behind Harry. The two went back and forth, with Hermione staying out of their way, trying to get a good shot at Harry. She’d shot a Leg-Locking curse at Harry, but missed by mere centimeters. He’d dodged one of Draco’s spells and missed hers as well. Gritting her teeth, she took aim again. It was a simple stinging jinx that she shot that time, but Harry had seen it coming and ducked down just in time. 

“Harry!” she shouted, anger rising inside her now. Of course she was furious that it was  _ Draco  _ he was dueling against right now, and trying to cause harm at this point, but it was also the fact that he was getting so carried away with his accusations and speculations that he was going to this great of length. “Stop it! This isn’t--”

 

But Harry had fired another spell at Draco, which went whizzing right past his ear. They were only feet away from her, each of them snarling at the other, their faces twisted in anger and rage. Hermione aimed her wand at Harry, ready to fire a simple Petrificus Totalus to subdue him when she heard Harry roar, “Sectumsempra!” 

 

She watched in terror as blood began to pour from Draco’s chest and face. There were large slashes against his white shirt, now slowly becoming saturated with blood. Myrtle was screeching at the top of her lungs, gliding around the bathroom and shielding her eyes from the terrible sight. Draco staggered for a moment before falling to the floor. Harry was stammering incoherently, his eyes wide with horror and regret. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t stop the tears flowing down her cheeks. 

 

“Harry!” she said urgently, making him jump. “Go and get help! What are you waiting for?” 

 

“But-”

 

“Go, Harry!” she all but screeched as she knelt down beside Draco to see if there was any way she could suppress the bleeding in the meantime. Her stockings were now wet with a mixture of water and his blood, but she didn’t care. When Harry was out of sight, she lifted Draco’s head into her lap and pushed the red stained hair away from his face. Draco was still crying, his own tears mixing with the sticky, red mess. Hermione tried to control her own sobs as she steadied her wand in her hand. She didn’t know many healing spells and she doubted any of the ones she knew would be much of help. She tried to cover some of the wounds with her hands to slow the blood flow, but it was no use. The wounds must have been too deep and now both of her hands were coated in his blood. 

 

“You’re going to be alright, Draco,” she cooed, opting to at least comfort him if she could not help him. If he could understand her, he gave no sign of it, but then again, he probably couldn’t. Guilt the size of Great Britain sank deep into her chest as the seconds passed and Draco continued bleeding onto the water flooded floor. She hadn’t been able to stop Harry in time. Every time Draco gasped for breath or let out a strangled sob, she felt her heart slowly crumble piece by piece. Where on Earth was Harry?

 

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater and forced herself to look at his face properly. What little skin wasn’t covered in blood, was chalk white and there was a blue tint to his lips.  _ Come on, Harry!  _ She pleaded silently. Draco let out a little cough, startling her as he had been quiet for a few seconds. His lips parted and he had managed to lightly pull on her finger. She waited with bated breath as he fought for the strength to speak. 

 

“It hurts, Hermione,” he croaked, and the way his voice broke at her name -- like a child getting hurt and crying out for their mum -- sent the last pieces of her heart crumbling. There was nothing she could do to take away his pain...to stop him from losing such a large amount of blood. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Draco…” she whispered, restraining the sob that threatened to break free. “I wasn’t quick enough and...I could have stopped him.” 

 

Draco shook his head slightly. “Don’t--I deserved this.” 

 

At that moment, the door burst open and she quickly moved herself so she was sitting next to Draco, his head no longer in her lap, her mind reeling over what Draco had just said. Professor Snape strode towards them, confusion flicking across his normally cold, black eyes before he zeroed in on Draco and whipped out his wand. Hermione sank back against the wall and let out a sigh of relief. When she looked up, she caught sight of Harry, still looking horrified by what he had done. Hermione glowered at him, even if he didn’t notice. Never in their six years of friendship had she ever been so furious with him. 


	29. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24 (don't forget she's posting this on FFN)
> 
> A happy birthday to Draco Lucius Malfoy too :)
> 
> We'd just like to remind everyone of a few things. 1) This is a collaboration fic. Every odd chapter is written by oeuvre24 and every even chapter is written by me. 2) This fic will continue into Deathly Hallows, which actually, will be happening quite soon. 3) We are only posting once a week now, which is tonight/today depending on your time zone! 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and commenting! We hope you enjoy! Oh, and don't forget to follow us on tumblr :)

Professor Snape had his wand out immediately, moving it across Draco’s chest slowly, up his arms, down his legs;  _ every _ part of his body was bleeding. Hermione felt as if she was paralysed, pressed back against the freezing cold tiled wall, not being able to take her eyes off of Draco as he lay in a pool of his own blood, twitching still. She could see more tears escape his eyes as he looked up at their Professor. Hermione knew that Draco was terrified. Not once in her whole life, had she heard someone speak to her in the way that he had when she’d cradled his head in her lap.

 

“Potter,” Snape’s voice cut through her thoughts and brought her attention back to Harry standing by the bathroom door. “Go straight to my office immediately.” When Harry didn’t move at once, Snape glared. “ _ Now _ !” He snapped, and Hermione recoiled at the intensity of his tone. “Miss Granger, go to the infirmary at once and tell Madam Pomfrey that I’ll be bringing Draco,” he turned his attention to her then.

 

She didn’t need to be told twice, and pushed off of the floor, stumbling slightly from a combination of still being in shock, and from the floor being covered in water from a broken sink pipe that had been burst when a spell had been sent awry. Hermione walked to the bathroom door and didn’t look at Draco or Snape as she left. She was grateful that everyone was in the Hall for dinner, and with every step she took, the more she came to notice the shaking of her hands, and how quickly she’d been breathing. She looked down at herself and paled upon seeing her sodden self -- not only from water, but from blood.  _ Draco’s _ blood. Her socks were stained a light red, from kneeling in the blood-stained water. Her skirt and bottom of her shirt was covered in the most of it, and she knew that the blood wouldn’t come out.

 

Her breathing became  _ too _ quick, and she started running. She needed to get to the infirmary… She needed to make sure Draco could be fixed.

 

_ He’ll be fine _ , she chanted in her head.  _ He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. _

 

* * *

 

Hermione didn’t see anyone on her way back from the infirmary after telling Madam Pomfrey that she should be expecting Snape and Draco fairly soon. The elder witch had been shocked upon seeing Hermione covered in blood, and Hermione had to assure her she was fine and could leave without needing to be treated. She couldn’t stop herself from crying as she walked back to the common room, as every time she did so much as blink, all she could see was Draco sprawled on the floor, losing too much blood.

 

She remembered what he had said. ‘ _ I deserved this _ .’ The statement had shocked her at first, and processing it now made her wonder what he meant. No-one deserved the pain he had just been put through. Her mind reeled back to what he had been saying to Myrtle, before he and Harry had started fighting. ‘ _ I can’t do it _ .’ Hermione knew he’d been talking about what he’d been disappearing to do, but the sentence which had worried her the most, had been, ‘ _ He’s going to kill me _ .’

 

Hermione wanted to slap herself when the conclusion she jumped to was the same one Harry had been thinking for months.  _ No, he isn’t _ , she chastised herself. There was no way Draco could be involved in the Death Eaters. There wasn’t a possibility, not after she’d come to know what he was truly like. No Death Eater would befriend a Muggleborn like herself… Or start a  _ relationship _ with one. Harry’s assumptions didn’t make sense, and she hoped that after the destruction he had caused, he would think twice about accusing Draco of anything again.

 

The portrait of the Fat Lady loomed ahead, and Hermione spoke the password, ignoring the woman’s concern over her wellbeing. All she wanted was to shower and then sleep and stop her mind from working just for a  _ moment _ . She had already decided that she would go to the infirmary that night, and nothing could stop her from doing so; not curfew, not anyone else, and absolutely not the threat of detention.

 

When she entered the common room, she hadn’t expected Harry to be standing by the fireplace, wringing his hands together. He looked up quickly when she came in and took in her blood-stained appearance before stepping forward. “Hermione…” 

 

“Don’t,” she snapped viciously. It was good that everyone was still at dinner, she thought, as she wouldn’t have been able to keep her mouth shut if he had been there when the common room was full. “Harry don’t you  _ dare _ think that talking to me right now is a good idea.”

 

“I didn’t mean for that to happen!” He yelled at her, instantly becoming defensive like he always did when he was confronted.

 

“Yes you did!” She yelled right back. “You cast the spell at him! Regardless of whether you knew what the spell did or not, you  _ still _ cast it.”

 

Harry tensed, his features drawn together as he glared at her. “You heard him talking to Myrtle!”

 

“I did, but I didn’t try to kill him!” She screamed, not caring that her voice was too loud, and that her words were too harsh. She’d held Draco in her arms while he had bled more than any person should; she didn’t even know if he was  _ alive _ and that thought tore a sob from her throat. “Why did you do that, Harry?” She yelled through her tears.

 

“Why did you help him?!” He closed his mouth the instant he yelled, and his expression softened as he looked at her. The room was silent as she glared at him in disbelief over why he would ask such a thing, and she could tell that Harry knew he’d said the wrong thing.

 

Her hand came to her cheek and she furiously wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. “ _ Why _ did I help him?  _ Why _ did I rush to someone who was  _ bleeding out _ ? Because I’m human, Harry!” Her voice rose once more. “You may not like him, and neither do I--” Her stomach dropped having to speak that lie. “--But that doesn’t mean that I would have just stood by and watched him as that happened! Don’t ever think of me as the kind of person that would do that,” her voice broke and shuddered as another set of tears threatened to overflow. “Don’t you  _ ever _ think that I would be capable of doing something like that.”

 

Harry hadn’t even tried to speak up, and he reached his hand out to her, stepping forward. He looked broken when she stepped away from him. “Hermione, please… I didn’t mean it,” he said softly and watched her as she walked to the staircase leading to the girls’ dormitory.

 

She turned back to look at him. “Just like you didn’t mean to curse him?” At that moment, she didn’t worry over if she had hurt his feelings, she didn’t care that she had maybe yelled too loudly or said some things she shouldn’t have… She had to defend Draco… No-one else would. Not even himself.

 

* * *

 

Hermione stayed in the shower too long. The water was too hot, and scalded her back as she stood under the shower-head, but she needed something to distract her from the memory of what had happened in the bathroom, and then what had just happened in the common room with Harry. She still found herself trembling, and a few sobs tore from her throat when she least expected them to, echoing around the shower cubicle. She scrubbed at her hands until her skin burned, and washed every part of her, trying to clean away the feeling of having Draco’s blood all over her.

 

Her mind kept wandering to terrible thoughts. Thoughts of Draco lying in the infirmary without drawing any air. The only thing that kept her from sinking to the ground with grief, was thinking of how Snape had gotten to the bathroom and had at least started to heal him. “He’s not dead,” she had to speak aloud to herself, to ground her to the real world and to the  _ facts _ . Sometimes, she thought, thinking logically instead of emotionally had it’s bonuses.

 

She left the shower when she remembered that dinner would be over soon and there would be a high chance of Lavender and Parvati returning to the dormitory, and Hermione didn’t want to deal with either of them. She dried herself and dressed immediately into her warmest pyjamas, and then sat on her bed and pulled the curtains around herself and cast a silencing charm. Every time that her crying ceased, another thought would spring to her mind, wondering if Draco was still in pain, and a whole new wave of tears would escape her eyes.

 

She didn’t know what time she eventually fell asleep. She didn’t hear Parvati ask her if she was okay, and tell her that Harry was asking for her. Neither did she hear the final bell of the night, indicating that everyone except the Prefects on patrol, had to be in their dormitories. Hermione’s dreams were empty, something she was grateful for. She had been so worn out and tired emotionally that sleep had hit her like a freight train.

 

When she awoke next, it was with a gasp and the feeling that something was amiss. It had been a rather long time since she had woken up with that feeling, and as she gathered her bearings and rubbed her eyes, flashbacks of the night flashed in her mind. She pushed back the curtains of her bed and found the room lit with moonlight coming through the windows, and it was enough to allow her to see the face of her watch. It was one in the morning, but it didn’t stop her from sneaking out of bed and slipping on her shoes and robe. She needed to know if Draco was alright, and slipped out of the dormitory after picking up her wand. Thankfully, there was no-one awake in the common room, and she cast a Concealment charm on herself and looked down to ensure that it had worked. She couldn’t see any of her body, and knew that the charm would last the distance for her to get to the infirmary, as it had lasted a rather long time the last time she had cast it on herself.

 

She remembered the last time she had used the charm, crouching against the wall in an abandoned classroom, invisible to anyone else after Slughorn’s Christmas party. It had been in that room that Snape had brought Draco in to talk. It was a sobering thought to realise that using the charm this time, also involved Draco, and Snape to some degree.

 

Mercifully, the halls were empty as she quickly walked. Not a Professor, Prefect or ghost were to be seen, and she reached the infirmary quicker than she ever would have on a normal occasion. This was no normal occasion, though, she was quick to remind herself. A quick Alohomora on the handles unlocked the doors to the hospital wing, and she slid through the smallest gap she could make before closing the doors behind her. A few candles on the wall were lit, giving just the faintest amount of light that Hermione could make out that there was no-one in any of the beds. Her heart-rate quickened as she thought the worst, until she spotted a screen near the back of the wing; a screen to give patients privacy.

 

Her footsteps were light as she ran to the end of the hospital wing and around the screen until she was standing at the foot of the bed. Her throat felt thick as she saw him. Draco lay on his back, with the sheets down to his waist. Thick white bandages were wrapped around his chest and arms, several times by the looks of things. Thank Merlin he didn’t look in pain, as Hermione didn’t know what she would have done if she had come across him in the same agony he had been in when he’d first been hit by Harry’s curse.

 

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as she moved to the side of the bed and used her wand to undo the Concealment charm, then cast a faint Lumos and left her wand on the side table next to the bed. She reached out hesitantly and placed her hand on Draco’s and felt it to be ice cold… Her thoughts took her back to their first day by the Lake way back in the Christmas holidays when he’d touched his fingers to her cheek.

 

“ _ Relax _ ,” he had drawled with his usual smirk. “ _ I’m used to it. My hands are always cold _ .”

 

She couldn’t help but let out a soft, weepy laugh recalling the memory, and she pulled a visitor chair closer to her so she could sit. Her hand tightened in his, holding his fingers tightly and she stared at his face. “I don’t know if you’re asleep normally, or from potions,” she admitted in a whisper. “I hope you aren’t hurting,” she sniffed and lifted her hand from his and moved it to his head. She gently brushed back his hair, and traced her fingers down his pallid cheek. She hated that all of this had happened in a time that he had been most vulnerable; most stressed and upset.

 

It was a cruel and bitter reminder that his problems and stress didn’t magically disappear whenever they spent time together. No matter the amount of time they spent in their Room, no matter what they did together, the issue that was so pressing to him was still always waiting for him when they left, and there was nothing that she could do to stop that.

 

She was drawn from her thoughts and stopped the movement of her hand when Draco shifted in his sleep. Hermione watched as his peaceful expression cinched, and his jaw tightened as he started to wake. She brushed his hair back and he tensed once more and his eyes opened quickly.

 

“It’s okay,” she whispered quickly, standing from the chair. “It’s just me. It’s Hermione.”

 

Draco let out a shaky breath as he looked up at her with wide, scared eyes before he settled and she could visibly see him relax. He licked his lips before he turned his head with a wince and looked at the side table. “S-Sore…” He breathed and she turned to see what he was looking at. She spotted a small cup of potion on the table and picked it up and brought it to his lips, figuring Madam Pomfrey had left it out for him should he have needed it. Luckily Hermione had been there, since she had no idea how Draco would have been able to reach for it when he could barely move his head without pain.

 

She kept the small plastic cup near his lips, gently tipping it to allow him to drink the potion slowly. When he was finished, his head reclined back into the pillow and he let out a breath. “How are you feeling?” She asked quietly and placed the cup back on the table, and then sat in the chair.

 

Draco turned his head slightly to look at her. “Shit,” he said, with a half-hearted smirk on his face which made her smile. He was trying… 

 

She slipped her hand into his and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered. “Well...not okay, but… You know what I mean,” she rambled

 

“I’m glad you were there,” he said after a moment of silence. His voice was weak and raspy. “I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t.”

 

“You don’t need to think about that,” she shook her head. He looked away from her and stared up at the ceiling, and she spotted a few scar lines on his skin, already starting to heal. They mustn’t have been as bad as the ones on his torso or arms, as his neck hadn’t been wrapped in bandages. Seeing the damage made her wonder just exactly what the curse was and  _ how _ Harry had discovered it.

 

“Why did you come here?” He asked after several quiet minutes. “You could get in trouble.”

 

“I don’t care,” she said surely. “I needed to see you. Nothing would have stopped me.” She watched as the corner of his lip quirked up in the slightest before his face was passive once more.

 

“Not even Potter?” He asked bitterly.

 

His comment made her stand again so she could be closer to the bed. “No,” she said, her voice tight. “Draco, listen to me. I  _ hate _ what he did to you. I’ve never been so angry at him before, I can’t believe he even did it. We got into a fight after it happened. I’m with  _ you  _ Draco. I promise.”

 

He avoided her eyes and swallowed hard. “Alright,” he managed to get out. When he finally looked at her, she could see as he bit the inside of his cheek. “Thank you,” he said, his voice wavering on the last word.

 

Hermione shook her head and leaned down and pressed her lips firmly to his before she hugged him as best as she could without leaning on him. “Don’t thank me.”

 

“I need to,” Draco said, his voice thick then, and he buried his head into the crook of her neck. “You didn’t need to do what you did.” A few seconds passed before his shoulders shook as he started to cry.

 

Hermione thread her fingers through his hair, holding the back of his head tightly. “I did,” she said to him, staying strong.

 

“Thank you,” he said again, though she knew he was properly crying then, and she could feel wetness on her neck where his face was pressed. “You’re all I’ve got…”

 

The admission broke her heart and she struggled to keep herself strong, to be  _ his  _ rock for once, rather than the other way around.

 

“We have each other, Draco,” she whispered in his ear. “Always. I promise you that.”

 

And she knew that she’d always promise that. Until her last breath.

 

* * *

 

Even though Hermione had become quite used to attending lessons without Draco, no thanks to his frequent disappearances, arriving to their Arithmancy class on Wednesday morning, knowing exactly  _ why _ he wouldn’t be there, was tough. She had ended up leaving the infirmary the night before, around an hour after she’d arrived. The potion Draco had taken had made him rather tired, but he had fought sleep for too long, that by the time two in the morning had rolled around, he was fast asleep while she sat by his bedside.

 

All she had wanted was to take his pain away. She’d spent plenty of time in the past sitting by Harry or Ron’s bedsides in the infirmary, but with Draco now, it was  _ different _ . The feeling of guilt and dread hit her in a completely different way than when it did if ever Harry or Ron had been hurt. While she cared for all the boys, she knew that everything just felt different when Draco was involved. It had started to worry her a bit until she’d talked herself out of thinking about it too much. Draco was healing, and he was safe in the hospital wing, and all she could do was hope for a speedy recovery.

 

She’d chosen not to sit at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, and ignored Harry as she grabbed herself a banana to take on her walk up to her Arithmancy class. He’d tried to get her attention -- and so had Ron so it was safe to assume Harry had let him in on what had happened -- but she didn’t even glance his way as she turned back towards the large doors to exit the Great Hall.

 

As per usual, she had been the first to arrive outside the classroom, and ate her banana as she leaned back against the wall. She found herself counting down the minutes until the bell rang, just so she could keep her thoughts on something other than the catastrophe that was what this month was turning out to be. Just by chance, Professor Vector opened the classroom door early and allowed Hermione to come in and take her seat.

 

“Dra-- Uh, Malfoy won’t be attending the class, Professor,” Hermione had told the witch before she sat down, quickly remedying her slip up in his name.

 

“Yes, I know,” Professor Vector said, a solemn look on her face as she walked to the blackboard at the front of the room. “All the staff members were alerted to the situation that occurred.”

 

Hermione didn’t say anything more and sat down at her usual desk and started to take out her things and managed to get a head start in copying down the notes from the board. She wondered if it had been Professor Snape to alert the staff members of what had happened to Draco. Maybe the Professor had told everyone that Harry was the reason Draco was in the hospital wing. It made her puzzle over whether Harry would be receiving punishment --  _ surely _ he must… Professor Snape wouldn’t have let any student go punishment-free if they had done what Harry had. 

 

The bell rang, making Hermione jump and almost drop her quill. Looking up from her parchment, she saw that the rest of the class had already entered before the bell had sounded, and she told herself to focus. It would do no good sitting all day thinking of this when she had exams fast approaching and the imminent need to solve the mystery behind Voldemort’s Horcruxes. How that would happen though when she couldn’t even look Harry in the eye, however, she didn’t know.

 

* * *

 

Unlike the night before, Hermione couldn’t fall asleep once she’d retired to the dormitory that night. Not that she tried, though. As the lights in the room turned off, Hermione cast a Lumos charm and kept her wand on her bed while she read Secrets of the Darkest Arts, waiting for one a.m. to roll around. Once it did, she would make her way to the infirmary to visit Draco once more. The book was thick, and bound in fading black leather, with brittle pages. It sent a sick feeling to her stomach seeing the crease marks on the spine of the book from being read so many times in the past and knowing that she was adding to that count.

 

As she started to read, the thought of holding the same book that Voldemort had disgusted her enough to almost stop her from reading, but she knew she couldn’t. Whatever was in this book was imperative for them to know. Just skimming through the first few chapters was ghastly enough, and she read snippets of paragraphs that made her stomach churn, and saw drawn diagrams that caused her to flip through the pages quicker. She didn’t understand how anyone would want to be involved in this kind of dark magic.

 

Chapter six dealt with Horcruxes, and the only thing she was grateful for was that the book had the most information on them than any other book she’d tried searching in. Before reading the words, she noticed the corner of the page had several crease marks, as if it had been bent down to bookmark it for future use. As she started to read, she could imagine just why Voldemort wanted to create Horcruxes. He would have been convinced no-one would be capable of destroying any that he made, ensuring that he  _ would _ be immortal. It was the knowledge that Harry had already destroyed one Horcrux that kept her from scaring herself with the thought that Voldemort may never die.

 

There was only so much of the chapter that she could read before she didn’t want to continue. It wasn’t one o’clock yet, but it was close enough that there was a high chance she wouldn’t get caught by any Professors that may be walking around -- she highly doubted that they would, though. She cast the Concealment charm on herself before she slowly drew back the curtains around her bed and slipped out to go down to the common room. No one was there, making it easy for her to exit through the portrait and make her way to the hospital wing. It was freezing in the halls and she was glad she was still wearing her school uniform with her jumper, as she knew she’d be even more cold had she changed into her pyjamas.

 

The journey to the infirmary was almost as uneventful as the night before. Nearly-Headless Nick had glided through a classroom door in front of her, almost making her let out a noise of surprise, but she managed to contain herself, and quickened her pace to reach Draco. The door to the hospital wing opened easily for her after using the Alohomora charm, and once inside with the door closed behind her, she smiled in anticipation of finally getting to see Draco again. The sheet was still around his bed, and she slowly and quietly pulled it back and looked in.

 

“You can’t help but break the rules, can you?” Draco whispered from where he lay, making Hermione’s smile widen.

 

She walked to his bedside and placed her hand on his. “How are you feeling?” She asked. He still had the same thick layering of bandages wrapped around his chest and arms, but from the low light in the room she could see he was beginning to get some colour back to his face.

 

“Sore,” he answered. “Could you grab me that potion again?” He asked, turning his head to look at the side table. She picked up the small cup that had been left and helped him drink it, making sure he had every last drop before she placed it back down. “Tastes horrible,” he muttered and she laughed quietly while she used a Aguamenti spell to fill another cup with water, and brought it to his lips again.

 

“Lucky I’m here, hm?” She said and moved the cup back after he’d had a few swallows.

 

“Very,” he nodded and sighed as he rest his head back. “So, what did I miss today?”

 

She sat on the side of his bed and he twitched his fingers upwards to rest just on her knee, the best he could do without moving fully. She reached down to twine their fingers together and then began to tell him what had happened that day. Everything from avoiding Harry at breakfast, to finding out that the teachers knew that Draco was in the hospital wing, to every class she attended and what she did on her breaks. She almost slipped up and told him of the Secrets of the Darkest Arts, but quickly stopped herself; no matter how much she wanted him to know too, she didn’t want to face the consequences from Harry, Dumbledore and the rest of the Order.

 

“What?” Draco asked, his brows furrowed. “You were going to say something.”

 

Hermione mentally cursed herself, but leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his cheek so he couldn’t see the guilt on her face. “I was just going to tell you how much I’ve missed you,” she said. It  _ was _ true… Just not what she had been going to say. “I’m sorry I can’t visit through the day.”

 

Draco shook his head barely. “It’s okay. I don’t expect you to,” he said. “And anyway, I’ve already got Madam Pomfrey to give me my potions through the day, you just pick up her job overnight,” he joked with a weak smile.

 

She smiled at him and placed her hand on his cheek. “What did it feel like?” She asked after a few moments of silence, and her smile disappeared.

 

His smile had already disappeared before she’d asked the question, and he drew in a breath. “I’ve never felt any sort of pain like that before,” he admitted. “It was…like I was being stabbed. Repeatedly in the same place. But the knives were boiling hot and ripping me too.” She winced as he described the pain, but he didn’t stop. “It felt...too real. You know what it’s like to receive a hex, or have a spell thrown at you, right?” He asked, and she nodded once. “You can  _ feel _ the magic in your body when that happens. You can feel that it isn’t someone physically inflicting that pain on you, but some _ thing _ . But...this curse was so different. I couldn’t comprehend what was real and what wasn’t. It felt too real to be coming from a wand. In my mind, someone  _ had _ those knives. Someone was cutting me and tearing me to shreds and I couldn’t move to stop it. It completely incapacitated me.”

 

She wanted nothing more than to hug him tightly as he spoke, but didn’t want to hurt him by leaning on somewhere she shouldn’t. Every description she used made her anger towards Harry boil, and her guilt swell over not being able to stop him before he’d thrown the curse at Draco.

 

“It’s not as bad now,” he continued and looked her in the eye. “The potions sort of keep it at bay. But it’s still painful. Deep down, though. Right inside my body, it’s hard to explain. I still can’t move without it feeling worse, though.”

 

“You’ve tried moving?” Hermione asked worriedly.

 

He nodded. “I moved my leg earlier this morning. Turns out there are cuts on my leg too, and moving caused them to open up. Madam Pomfrey says that the potions are just numbing the pain until Snape can make a salve that’s going to heal up the cuts properly.”

 

“That’s why you’re wrapped up,” she said, looking at his chest and arms. “These ones aren’t open, though,” she said, looking at his neck. She moved her hand close, but didn’t touch the skin for fear of hurting him.

 

“That’s where Snape started healing from first, when he cast that spell when he found us.”

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this grateful towards Snape before,” she said with a soft laugh, and placed her hand back on his cheek.

 

“Mm…” Draco hummed and looked down at his chest. “Me either…”

 

“I should hope so,” Hermione said softly. “He saved you.”

 

Draco looked down at his feet then. “That he did,” he said, his voice quietly, and Hermione knew that tone of voice.

 

Disappointment.

 

* * *

 

Time moved too slowly. Normally, without Draco around if he skipped classes or disappeared for days, Hermione would be able to spend the majority of her time with Harry and Ron. Now, though, she couldn’t look Harry’s way without being overcome with anger, and Ron wasn’t usually away from him, so that didn’t leave her with many people to spend time with. Ginny had started to hang around with Ron and Harry between and after classes, too, so Hermione didn’t have the option to catch up with her either.

 

It was horribly lonely. At least the last time she, Harry and Ron hadn’t been speaking to each other, she’d been able to spend a lot of time with Draco. Now, she only got to see him in the dead of the night, and only for an hour because they both needed rest -- him more so. Every time she visited him, his chest and arms were still bandaged firmly, and he told her of the variety of potions Madam Pomfrey made him take throughout the day.

 

Hermione had taken to copying out her classnotes during her free periods or after classes, and taking them to Draco at night so he could read them over during the day time, to give him something to stimulate his mind instead of lying still all day. She knew that he was suffering greatly from being confined to the bed, day in and day out, without being able to move without horrible pain - it was like he was suffering from a whole new type of cabin fever.

 

On the fifth night he’d been in the hospital wing was when she really started to notice changes in his demeanor. He didn’t smile as much after she’d arrived, and it was hard to get a whole conversation out of him. He even asked her to go early because he said he was too tired. Asking her to leave didn’t seem like something she had to be worried about, but it was the next night when Draco told her to leave early again that she started to get worried. He hadn’t mentioned that he was tired, or that he wanted to sleep, but merely suggested, “You should go,” halfway through her speaking, before he looked away from her completely. She had tried asking him what was wrong but to no avail, and she left irritated and confused.

 

Hermione spent Monday in the library when she wasn’t in classes, working on finishing all of her homework from that day and getting started on more exam preparation. It managed to keep her mind off of Draco and Harry for the majority of the day, but when it drew close to dinner time, she had to make her mind up… She debated over whether visiting Draco that night would be a good idea or not. She did want to see him, and to make sure that he was okay and to be there to be the one to give him his pain potion, but she didn’t know if she could deal with his snippy mood, or his dismissal if he were to give her one.

 

Guilt, and the hope that maybe Draco would be nicer to her that night, made Hermione leave the common room at one in the morning and go to the infirmary. When she reached the hospital wing and walked to his bed, she took in a deep breath before pushing back the screen to get to his bed. “Hello,” she greeted him in a whisper, with a small smile; she didn’t want him to think she was angry if he was in a better mood that night.

 

His eyes opened slowly, and he only looked at her for a few seconds before averting his eyes again. “You shouldn’t be here,” was all he said.

 

Hermione paused in her walking to his bed and her smile fell. “Well I am, so you can deal with it,” she said, steeling herself to stand strong if he was going to act in that way.

 

“Go back to your dormitory,” he said, his voice low and monotonous.

 

She straightened her shoulders and walked to his bedside. “Why?” She asked and picked up the cup of medicine left out on his side table. “Why do you feel like being an arse is going to help in any way?” She questioned, her stare hard as she brought the rim of the small plastic cup to his mouth.

 

He glared up at her but drank the potion and rest his head back. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said again. “ _ Go _ .”

 

“No,” Hermione grit her teeth. “Why are you acting like this?” She asked, fighting to keep herself from raising her voice. She was  _ tired  _ of fighting everyone all the time. 

 

“You shouldn’t be around me,” he answered and she saw him shift as he lay; it must have been killing him not being able to move when he was this angry.

 

She almost scoffed at his reasoning as it had been the same thing that had been said in the majority of their fights in the past few months. “When are you going to _ realise  _ Draco?!” She snapped. “I’m  _ staying _ with you and I’m not going anywhere. Nothing you say or do will change that.”

 

“Are you sure about that?” He responded bitterly. “Are you  _ really _ sure Granger? Stop thinking so highly of everyone in your bloody life and open your eyes. I’m not a good person.  _ Leave _ .”

 

“You’re not a bad person,” she hissed. “Stop with the self deprecating and realise that you don’t think very highly of yourself.”

 

“I shouldn’t. I know I’m a bad person, and you need to know it to. Stop dreaming and understand that not everyone is as  _ fucking _ good as you.”

 

Hermione glared and placed the plastic cup on the side table with a little more force than necessary. “I almost didn’t come here tonight, you know that?” She said. “But I did. Because even though you’ve been an utter... _ arse _ to me, I still care! Because that’s what people do, Draco. Forgiveness is a great thing and you’re  _ lucky _ that I have it, because if I didn’t, I would have been gone a long time ago.” She knew that fighting wasn’t the best thing the both of them should be doing, but  _ goddamnit _ she was tired of people trodding on her and underestimating her. “ _ You’re _ the one that needs to stop dreaming, Draco. Wake up and see that I care. See that your  _ friends _ care too. You’re the only person that thinks horribly of yourself. You need to start accepting some help, because no matter what, forgiveness can run thin.”

 

She was breathing heavily when she finished, and Draco’s jaw was tight as he stared up at her. He didn’t say a word more and neither did she. Too angered and frustrated, Hermione turned and pushed back the screen and left the infirmary without looking back.

 

* * *

 

On Wednesday morning, Hermione had been sitting at the Gryffindor breakfast table when the Hall went quiet for several seconds. She looked up from her bland bowl of porridge to see what the matter was, and her eyes widened when she watched Draco make his way to the Slytherin table. He wasn’t walking as he normally would, as he had a slight limp and wasn’t standing tall and proud. Surely he still had bandages around his chest, under his jumper and shirt if he was walking the way he was, and she felt the need to get up and get to him to ask if he was okay despite the fact they hadn’t spoken since their fight. She’d been unable to sleep that night after returning to the Gryffindor Tower, and spent the whole of Tuesday exhausted and managed to avoid talking to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. She hadn’t felt the need to visit Draco that night, which was why she was so shocked to see him enter the Hall.

 

Draco looked over at the Gryffindor table, and she could see a slight flush on his cheeks -- most likely due to the vast majority of the student body staring at him --, but he didn’t look at her. No. His sights were firmly on Harry, as he gave him the most venomous look Hermione had ever seen. She looked at Harry then and saw him get up from his seat and leave the Great Hall, not even giving one glance at Draco, and the noise in the Hall resumed.

 

The porridge in front of her went to waste, as Hermione kept an eye on Draco as he made his way to the Slytherin table and gingerly sat himself down. She then watched as Pansy Parkinson got up from where she was seated, and rushed to Draco and started talking to him. It didn’t take long before she turned away with an angry look on her face, and stormed out of the Hall, leaving Draco sitting by himself.

 

With her appetite gone, and nothing else to wait for, Hermione got up and left to make her way to Arithmancy, wondering if Draco would skip, even though he showed up for breakfast. It almost looked like he would be missing out on classes as she entered the classroom when the bell went, with the rest of her class members, but a few minutes afterwards, Draco came in and apologised. He seemed out of breath, and the Professor didn’t scold him or ask any questions, just told him to take a seat.

 

Hermione’s eyes stayed firmly ahead when he sat next to her, and at the same time as listening to Professor Vector speak, she could hear Draco’s shallow breathing beside her. Unable to pretend he wasn’t there any longer, Hermione turned her head slightly and saw him slouching back in the chair, one hand on his stomach. “Are you okay?” She mouthed. He nodded once and looked away from her and to the front of the class, causing a surge of anger to rise within her once more. The one time she decided to be nice when she should have stayed quiet and angry towards him, he ruined it all by being an arse.  _ Again _ .

 

She  _ almost _ felt bad when a couple of minutes later, he placed a piece of parchment in front of her.

 

_ I didn’t realise walking around would hurt this much. I’m just in pain. I thought about what you said a lot last night, and I don’t think we should be fighting _ . She struggled not to snort at that, thinking that he shouldn’t have been horrible enough in the first place to start the fight.  _ I’m going to the infirmary to get some more pain potion after this. Can we meet in the Room later? Before dinner? _

 

Hermione read the message over once more and let out a breath through her nose. She didn’t know what good would come of continuing to be angry at him when he was reaching out, seemingly going to apologise. She picked up her quill and put it to the parchment.

 

_ I’ll be in our Room straight after Defence. If you’re even a minute late, I’m leaving. I won’t put up with your indecisiveness of whether you like me or not. _

 

The full stop she added at the end caused the ink to pool, and she watched Draco out the corner of her eye as he read her message.

 

_ I’ll be there early then. I was a prick and I want to talk before I lose you too. _

 

The crease between Hermione’s brows smoothed out when she read his last four words. Just like a true Slytherin, he knew how to ensure her presence, but, she knew in her heart that he wasn’t saying it to manipulate her into showing. He meant it, and she could see it in his expression when she glanced at him properly.

 

_ What did I tell you Draco? I said we’d always have each other. _

 

She saw him relax in his seat, and they both jumped and looked ahead when Professor Vector called for their attention and asked Draco a question. He cleared his throat before answering correctly, and received five points for Slytherin. Hermione was asked something immediately after, and of course gave the correct answer and also received five points. 

 

Receiving the points didn’t feel half as good as it did when Draco dropped his hand under the table and placed it on her knee.

 

* * *

 

Hermione split off from the rest of the students exiting from their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, and took a completely different route to the seventh floor -- one that was longer, but would ensure no-one would see her make her way to the Room of Requirement instead of going back to Gryffindor Tower. She had spent the rest of the day since Arithmancy, focusing all of her energy into her classwork, listening to every word her Professors spoke and answering as many questions as possible. She’d come to the realisation that she ought to start forcing herself to pay more attention to listening to the Professors, even though she had already read ahead in all of her classes. It kept her from thinking too much about what was going on outside of schoolwork, and managed to keep her sane.

 

She reached the Room of Requirement five minutes after leaving her last class of the day, and paced three times before the door appeared. She didn’t have any doubts that Draco would be there, so wasn’t surprised to see him in the Room when she opened the door. He was pacing though, and when he looked up at her, she could see a sheen of sweat on his face and a flush to his cheeks. He had a look in his eyes too… Something she hadn’t seen before; he seemed frantic, and more stressed than she’d ever witnessed him looking before.

 

“Has something happened?” She asked, deciding to forgo her plan of acting stony towards him until he apologised properly.

 

“No,” he shook his head and walked over to her.

  
She noticed him wince every few steps, and she held her hands up when he was a foot away from her. “Don’t lie to me,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I’m observant.”

 

“I know you are,” Draco said and gave her a weak smile. “I’m just in pain.”

 

“Did you get--”

 

“A pain potion, yes, I did,” he cut her off and reached out to take one of her hands and pull her towards the couch and the fireplace.

 

Her brow was pulled down as he held her hands tightly, but she sat next to him nonetheless. “Draco, what’s going on?” She asked, and he immediately stood up again from the couch and walked to the fireplace.

 

“I need you to promise me something,” he said in a rush. Hermione made to stand up from the couch but he stopped her. “No, please… Just sit.”

 

“You’re worrying me, Draco,” she admitted.

 

His hands were clenched by his side and he took some time before speaking again. “No matter what might happen in the future, I need you to know that I’d never do  _ anything _ to hurt you. In any way.”

 

Hermione sat forward, her worry turning into confusion.  _ What is he talking about? _ She thought and she had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach… Why would he be apologising about the future if something wasn’t going to happen in the first place? “You don’t have anything to apologise for,” she said surely.

 

He shook his head and reached up to grab the back of his neck. “Whatever might happen, you need to know that I’m with _ you _ . Alright?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Just… Remember it.  _ Please _ , Granger, you need to remember that.”

 

Ignoring his earlier request to stay seated, Hermione stood up and walked over to him. “Stop talking like this,” she said sharply. “Nothing’s happened. Nothing _ will _ happen,” she looked him right in the eye and her stomach sank when he looked away from her. “Nothing is going to happen,” she said again through gritted teeth, and put her hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “Right?”

 

Her fingers dug into his cheeks gently until he finally looked at her. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quiet.

 

She bit the inside of her cheek and dropped her hands and instead wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a hug, standing on her toes.  _ Harry can’t be right _ , she said firmly to herself,  _ Draco’s talking about something else. He has to be. _

 

“Go to Dumbledore,” she said in his ear, her voice weak. “He can help you, Draco. No matter what it is.”

 

Draco didn’t answer, but his arms came around her waist and he pulled her tight to his body, his face tucked in the crook of her neck.

 

* * *

 

“I got my bandages taken off today,” he told her, and she lifted her head from where it was rested on his arm.

 

“You did? So everything’s healed properly?” She asked. It was Friday, two days after he had been released from the infirmary. That also made it two days since his bizarre request and apology. They had spent the rest of that night together in their Room, and once things had settled, she had helped him catch up on a lot of his homework. Thursday was spent in much the same manner during their free periods and when classes finished for the day, and it was good for her own study too. Repeating and reteaching a lot of what the Professors had been teaching during the week Draco had been away, was a good way for the information to cement itself into her mind.

 

Right then, though, they were lying together on the bed that had made its way back into the Room’s design, after Draco had waited on the seventh floor for her to finish her rounds with Ernie Macmillan. Luckily she and Ernie had agreed at the start of their Rounds that he would patrol the dungeons and the first three floors, and Hermione would take the top four. She’d almost had a heartattack when Draco revealed himself to her near Gryffindor Tower, asking her to come to their Room. She’d agreed without hesitation -- it was Friday night after all.

 

“Yeah. There’s still enough scars to remind me of it, though,” he said. “Battle scars,” he added with a wry smile and a soft laugh.

 

She smiled at him too and her fingers fiddled with the top button of his shirt. “Can…” She started, unsure on whether it was appropriate or not to ask.

 

Luckily, he seemed to know what she wanted to ask, and lifted his hand to hers, brushing her fingers out of the way so he could start to unbutton his shirt. “Madam Pomfrey says they should fade, but not completely. They’ll always be there,” he said, and used his other hand to help unbutton his shirt when Hermione sat up slightly.

 

Her breath caught in her throat when his shirt was open to reveal his chest. The largest of the scars ran from just under his left armpit, across his chest and down his stomach to his hip. The scar was a shade or two darker than his skin tone, and she looked at all the other scars across his chest, all still the same colour, but smaller, and spread more randomly across his skin. There was one along his chest about the length of a quill, one across his collarbone, two scars down by his bellybutton that almost met in an ‘x’.

 

“Do they hurt?” She asked, finally finding her voice.

 

He shook his head, and for that she was relieved. “Not anymore. The ones on my back felt a bit strange when I got dressed, but nothing compared to how painful they were when I was still wrapped up like a mummy,” he added with a smile.

 

She couldn’t help but laugh, and she rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Only you could keep this situation light,” she murmured against his skin then looked up, their faces inches apart.

 

“I have to,” he shrugged.

 

Hermione smiled and leaned forward to kiss him, and his hand came up to the back of her head, holding her close to him. He kissed her hard, and she did the same, holding tightly onto his shoulders. It had felt too long since they had done this, and with every emotion that they’d been feeling in the past week, this felt like it was a long time overdue.

 

It was good for them, she thought, that they were doing this; to let themselves think only of each other in this sense instead of worrying so much about everything that had been clouding their minds for so long. The both of them needed to relax and  _ stop _ thinking, and this was perfect.

 

She didn’t protest when Draco rolled over so she was on her back and he was positioned above her. Her hands slipped down to his chest, spreading her fingers wide across his skin as they kissed and got lost in each other for so long she lost track of the time passing by.

 

It got carried away, and she found herself arching closer to him, her breathy sighs sounding more like moans, and then his right hand slipped between them and rest on the inside of her left thigh. Their lips parted, both of them pulling back to pant, looking at each other with a wave of understanding coming across them.  _ I’m ready _ , she thought to herself as she stared into his eyes, his pupils so dilated and so fixated on  _ her _ .

 

They didn’t speak at first, the only sounds between them was of them both catching their breath. Draco moved his hand, massaging her thigh, and she wondered if he would have been this bold if she had been wearing her school skirt, and not the jeans she currently had on.

 

“Do you want to?” He asked, his voice a whisper.

 

Hermione’s hands ran up his arms, holding onto his biceps. “Y-Yes,” she breathed with a nod. Her heart was racing, thundering from the nerves that were starting to overtake everything. Too many thoughts ran through her head: what if it didn’t feel like what she hoped it would? What if he didn’t like it? Was this the right time after everything that had been going on? What if something wasn’t right down there -- she wouldn’t know.

 

His hand moved off her thigh and he rolled off her slightly, leaning on his side so he could unbutton her jeans. She could see that his trousers were much tighter than they had been before they’d gotten to the bed, and when she focused in on his hands, she saw his fingers move clumsily. It must have been new to him too… He wouldn’t have acted so nervous otherwise.

 

Her cheeks were bright red when he got her button undone and her zip down, and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her jeans. She lifted her bum off the mattress so he could slide them down, and she managed to kick them off once the waist got passed her knees. She felt bare to his gaze, only wearing her top and underwear which wasn’t anything special -- she hadn’t thought she’d  _ need  _ anything special when she packed her trunk for sixth year… 

 

She looked up from her own bare legs, and to Draco’s face. His hand was resting on her stomach, which was rising and falling quickly with every breath she took, and he finally lifted his gaze from her underwear to look her in the eye. “What does it feel like?” He asked quietly.

 

“You’ve never…?” Hermione trailed off as he shook his head once. “It’s…” She started and then bit on her bottom lip. Embarrassment flooded over her. Whilst she knew that exploring one’s own body was natural, it was still a whole other issue actually  _ admitting _ to someone else that she’d touched herself in the privacy of her bedroom during the holidays when she  _ knew _ she was home alone.  _ It’s just Draco _ , she tried to reason with herself.  _ You’ve done plenty of things together… Nothing should be an embarrassment anymore _ . “It’s kind of...warm,” she told him. “And wet… Sort of tight too…” Her face must have been glowing red by that point, but Draco didn’t laugh or make fun of her -- not that she’d ever have expected him too.

 

He understood her embarrassment, and kissed her again, and kissed her  _ longer _ , so that as the minutes passed, she came to understand that it wasn’t something she should be embarrassed about with him. They had done so much together -- they were  _ dating _ for Merlin’s sakes -- and not only that, they were so in tune with each other emotionally now, that it shouldn’t have been as big an issue as she initially thought it to be in her head.

 

She wanted to make him understand that she was ready, and took his hand from her stomach and moved it down to her knickers. They continued to kiss, but it grew messy and uncoordinated when she moved her hand away, and his fingers ducked into the waistband of her underwear. Her hands tensed on his shoulders when his fingers first made contact, running between her lips and feeling how wet she was. Her legs parted as she now  _ wanted  _ him to touch her more… To not be as hesitant as he was being. One of her hands left his shoulder to reach down and push her knickers down, and she looked between them. Draco was looking too, and she felt one of his fingers uncurl to explore, pushing between her lips as he grew more confident.

 

“There…” She breathed, nodding when he found her entrance, and she held his forearm tightly as he pushed in slowly. She couldn’t describe the feeling… It had felt so strange, but wonderful when she had used her own fingers in the few fleeting times she’d explored, but Draco’s hands -- and fingers -- were much bigger than her own. 

 

Draco glanced at her face once, and she hoped her expression wasn’t too ridiculous as her head fell back against the pillow and she lifted her hips slowly off the mattress. He pushed his finger a little deeper inside her before drawing out once more, and she took the initiative to reach down again. “Your thumb…” She told him, and when he extended it, she guided it straight to her clit. He was too eager, and she jolted and let out a moan at the spark it shot through her body. 

 

His fingers found a rhythm that was comfortable for him and  _ beyond _ pleasurable for her, and she pushed her hips up, seeking more,  _ needing _ more. Her hand was still on Draco’s that was between her thighs, and her other arm wrapped around his back to the best of her ability. He was breathing heavily against her shoulder and between her moans, she turned her head to him.

 

“B-Bit more,” she breathed and helped him move his thumb to where she could handle it. He was a quick learner and had her gasping and moaning louder. His hand movements didn’t stop, and he started to kiss her neck, clumsily running his tongue over the spot under her ear he’d discovered previously. As the time wore on, Hermione’s body tensed, and she gripped his arm tightly when she came, her whole body falling back to the bed, her bones feeling rubbery.

 

Draco withdrew his finger slowly, and then ran his fingertips against her once more and her legs jolted. She was panting, and brought her own hand up from where it was resting between her legs, and placed it on her stomach.

 

“That was…” She whispered and pressed her lips to Draco’s cheek. “So good,” she assured him and he rolled off of her and onto his side. She just found enough strength to reach down and pull her knickers up, and couldn’t care less about any embarrassment she thought she would have felt, and leaned against his side.

 

“I’m glad,” he murmured and turned so their foreheads were pressed together.

 

“Thank you for not trying to shut yourself off even more,” she said softly, tilting his chin up. “I know you just want to make sure I’m not hurt in this, but…” She paused, and grabbed his face with her hands, pressing a firm kiss to his lips and she watched his eyes flutter closed briefly, and then felt his soft exhale tickle her lips when they parted.

 

She waited patiently while Draco stayed quiet, sorting out his thoughts. She learned that Draco liked to gather his thoughts before he spoke, and he liked to sort everything out in his head instead of blurting out whatever came to his mind. “You’re right,” he said hoarsely. “I was trying pushing you away.” She deflated a bit at this, hating that she was right more than she thought she would be. “But it’s not just about keeping you safe.” 

 

When he remained silent, Hermione took his hands in hers, lacing their fingers together. They were warm and a bit calloused, but she quite enjoyed the way it felt against her skin. “Then what is it about? I’ve already told you, I’ve put myself in plenty of danger for  _ and _ with Harry, and I’m still here.” 

 

“But Potter doesn’t  _ want  _ you to put yourself in danger for him,” he said, and she could feel him tensing up. “You can’t deny it. You’ve said so yourself, he loves you like a sister, he wouldn’t want you in danger.” 

 

“Yes,” she said quietly, running her thumb along the back of his hand. “You’re right, but Harry’s accepted long ago that Ron and I are there for him until the end. He knows we love him as much as he loves us and we want to help him.”

 

Draco sighed heavily and released his hands from hers so he could dig the heels of his palms into his eyes. “You deserve someone better than me,” he murmured so quietly she barely heard him at all. “Nothing about our relationship is going to be easy. I don’t… I don’t want to fail at giving you what you deserve.” 

 

Hermione sat up slightly and hooked her leg around his hips so she was settled on his thighs, and leaned down so their faces were close together again. She kissed his jawline up to his cheek and laid a hand on his chest, her fingers across the largest of his scars. “I want to be with you, Draco. Nothing you can say would change that.” 

 

“You can’t be so sure of that,” he said.  

 

She inhaled deeply, looking down at her hands. “My mum always told me to listen to my gut. That no matter what, your gut was always right.” It was then that she looked him squarely in the eyes. “My gut tells me I want to be with you, no matter how difficult it may be. None of us know what the future will bring, but I know that I want you there with me when we find out. This may be our only chance and...it’s worth it to me.”

 

His hands rest on her bare legs, and it took him a while to respond. “I won’t make you regret anything, Hermione,” he said, and the use of her first name made her lips curl into a smile. It wasn’t often that he said it, and she didn’t mind that he didn’t… It made it more special to hear it when he did.

 

“I know you won’t. What I said in the infirmary? I meant it. We’ll always have each other. I’ll make sure of it.”


	30. Fallen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me (avdubs), remember that oeuvre24 is posting over on fanfiction.net too! We both urge you all to read the author's notes on every chapter as we get countless reviews and comments asking questions that we address up here in the notes. To answer the most common question we get: Yes, this fic will be continuing into Deathly Hallows territory. See you next week at the regular uploading time, can't wait to hear your comments about this chapter. Enjoy!

“You want to tell me about him now?” Ginny asked quietly, a hand on Hermione’s knee. Ginny had found her in an empty tower just a few minutes ago; Merlin’s knows how, but now that she was here, Hermione was glad, and she sniffled and wiped away the tears that had stained her cheeks. 

 

“Yes and no,” she answered truthfully. It would feel so  _ good  _ to tell someone about Draco, and even though Ginny had been there for her through all of her previous boy troubles, she wasn’t sure how Ginny would feel about  _ this  _ boy. She played with the hem of her cardigan sleeve, gathering her thoughts, trying to determine where the best place was to start. 

 

“Harry knows you’ve been acting...different, for a while now,” Ginny told her gently. “He doesn’t have any idea why, but he’s worried about you. And...he still feels bad about the whole...bathroom thing.” 

 

Hermione let out a shaky laugh and rolled her eyes. It had been two weeks since Harry had cursed Draco in the bathroom, but things between her and her best friend still hadn’t returned to normal. “I know,” she muttered, recalling the long talk she had finally had with Harry just mere days ago. It was the first time they had been able to talk about the entire incident without either of them yelling, and finally managed to come to an understanding. 

 

_ “Harry?” she said softly, staring at him as he sat across from her in the Gryffindor common room. It was nearing two in the morning and the fire they had originally started was almost at its end. “You understand why I was upset, right?”  _

 

_ It took him a moment before he nodded, his head hung and his elbows resting on his knees. “I do,” he said honestly. “I promise. Do you believe me when I said I wouldn’t have done it if I knew what that spell did?”  _

 

_ Hermione inhaled sharply before saying, “Yes, I do.”  _

 

_ Harry perked up, his eyes wide with shock. “You do?”  _

 

_ Hermione sighed and got up from her chair, motioning for him to make room for her. She sat down next to him, the two a tight squeeze on the armchair. She put her hand on his knee and looked directly at him. “I remember what it was like for you last year,” she said quietly. “When you didn’t realize it was Voldemort possessing you, and you thought that you were becoming this bad person. You were so scared, so terrified of the thought that it could be true. Luckily, it wasn’t, obviously, but what I’m getting at is that you’ve been fighting against this sort of magic and it’s cruel intentions since you first came into the Wizarding World. The last thing you want is for innocent people to get hurt or killed. That’s why I believe you, Harry.”  _

 

_ Harry nodded, satisfied with her response and gave her a half-hearted smile. “Thanks,” he said and she knew he still felt lousy about the entire ordeal. Hermione squeezed his knee before standing up, ready to head to bed for the night.  _

 

_ “Hermione?” she heard Harry call just as she approached the foot of the staircase.  _

 

_ “Yes, Harry?” she asked, turning around to face him.  _

 

_ “How did you...I mean...how could you be friends with Malfoy?” he asked, his cheeks turning red. “You, especially.”  _

 

_ During their talk, Hermione had confessed that she and Draco were friends and had been for a while now. She thought of telling Harry that she was actually Draco’s girlfriend, but decided that it might be a bit too much for him to hear at once. When he asked her this, she knew she had made the right call. Hermione sighed again and retreated back to her chair. She kept her eyes fixed on the fire as she thought of the best way to describe it.  _

 

_ She ended up quietly laughing out loud when the answer hit her right in the face. “I don’t know,” she said honestly, trying to refrain from smiling. “It just...happened. I mean, we were both angry about you beating us in Potions and that got us talking of course, but...I don’t know.”  _

 

_ “And he’s never--” Harry paused and shot her a knowing stare.  _

 

_ “No,” she said firmly. “He’s never called me a Mudblood or hurt me since we became friends.”  _

 

_ Harry nodded, but looked deep in thought. She knew that it would take him some time to adjust. Hermione, after months and months of doubting and holding back her fears, finally decided to say to Harry what she had been hoping against since the incident in the bathroom, “I know you think he’s up to something bad,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I think so too.” Her voice cracked on the last word, one lone tear slipping down her cheek. “But I can promise you one thing Harry Potter, that whatever it is, he wants no part in it. He doesn’t want this.” Her tone was firm and confident as she looked him right in the eyes, her vision growing more blurry by the second.  _

 

_ She felt his arms wrap around her as a sob escaped her throat.  _

 

Aside from the bathroom incident, it had been a tough few weeks for Hermione all around. Draco had been hot and cold for a while after the whole ordeal, and even though they too had patched things up, she still felt unsettled. Other than the nights she had visited him in the infirmary, they hadn’t talked about his conversation with Myrtle previous to the fight. But Draco’s words kept ringing in her head, like a nightmare that wouldn’t escape her even during the day. 

 

“Do you promise to keep this between the two of us?” Hermione asked, biting her lip and gripping the edge of the stone step she had perched herself on. 

 

“Of course,” Ginny replied sincerely. 

 

Hermione inhaled deeply and started at the beginning. She told Ginny nearly everything, leaving out the debacle she and Draco pulled with the Half-Blood Prince’s book (that was another discussion for a different time, she felt) and finished when she was barely able to reiterate the retelling of the bathroom incident. 

 

“He’s been so...odd ever since, Gin. And part of me understands why, I do,” she said earnestly. “But I just… I can’t sit by and let whatever it is he’s doing, happen. And he doesn’t even  _ want  _ to do it,” she added angrily. “That’s the most frustrating part! He doesn’t want to and I’ve told him I could help but he’s just...he’s so stubborn.” 

 

Ginny let out a long, slow exhale and glanced at Hermione out of the corner of her eye. “Sorry,” she said, “I’m just...this is a lot. I mean, you and Malfoy…” Hermione grew tense but when Ginny placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she felt herself relax. “We all know you’re brilliant, and always right and therefore...I trust your judgement. It’s just strange is all.” 

 

“Thanks,” Hermione said after releasing a breath.

 

After a few moments of silence Ginny said, “I think you need to go and talk to him about that night in the bathroom.” 

 

She gnawed on the inside of her cheek as she sat deep in thought. As the days passed, Hermione noticed how fidgety and irritable Draco had become; not towards her, but with others. He’d hardly spoken to his friends during the past few weeks, despite her assuring him that they care for him. She knew that Ginny was right, she needed to talk to him about this. It wasn’t something she could just let go or put off, not anymore. Over the years, and thanks to her friendship with Harry and the Weasleys, Hermione had learned not to be so blunt about delicate situations and to be more respectful of other people’s feelings. She had learned not to be so pushy and abrasive, but maybe it was time that she channeled young Hermione again. 

 

“Ginny?” Hermione said quietly. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“I’m really happy you and Harry are together,” she whispered. 

 

She heard Ginny sigh as she stood up, reaching her hand out to Hermione for her to grab. “Thanks,” she said casually. “But I’m pretty sure it won’t last much longer.” 

 

Hermione stopped them in their tracks, getting a tight hold on Ginny’s arm. “What do you mean?” she asked, her tone serious and slightly angry. “You’ve waited so long and if Harry--” 

 

Ginny laughed and pulled Hermione into a brief hug. The redhead sighed, her head resting on Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione stood with her arms around Ginny, still shocked by Ginny’s words. “I know Harry quite well,” Ginny said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “And even though he provided no details, I know something is coming. He’s got plans -- a Dark Wizard to defeat.” The two pulled apart before sitting back down on the stone steps. “I don’t know,” Ginny said with a shrug. “It’s just a feeling I have. Maybe I’ll be wrong. Can I ask you something, though?” 

 

Hermione nodded and motioned for her to continue. She had a feeling she knew what Ginny was going to ask. “Does he make you happy? Malfoy?” the younger witch asked hesitantly. 

 

“Yes,” she said without missing a beat. “He makes me really happy, Gin.” 

 

Ginny smiled and pulled them up again, only this time they actually got to the bottom of the stairs. “Good,” she said before pulling open the door that led back to the corridor. “But make sure he knows if he ever screws up, I’m first in line to kick his arse.” 

 

Hermione giggled and threw an arm around Ginny’s shoulders. “You got it.” 

 

* * *

 

“Are you going to talk to him?” Harry asked as they sat in the library the following evening, going over wards and other defensive charms she’d discovered in her research. It was late, and Hermione was pretty sure they were the only two left in the library at that point. Her eyes were growing tired and she was just about ready to call it a night. 

 

“Yes,” she answered carefully. She was wary about discussing Draco with Harry, even though it felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest since she’d told him. She hadn’t revealed anything Draco had told her in confidence, and she planned to keep it that way. “But this is a delicate subject. I can’t just  _ casually  _ bring it up.” She watched him keep his eye on her but not speak. “Personally,” she said when he didn’t respond, “I’m quite surprised at how well you’re handling my friendship with Draco.” 

 

Harry pursed his lips and she could see his body grow tense. He threw down the quill he was holding and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared at her with narrowed eyes and a frown. “I still don’t like it,” he said curtly. “And you should be careful around him… But I can’t tell you what to do. And we both know how well I listen.” 

 

Hermione cracked a smile at his joke and rolled her eyes. “Well thanks, Harry. For not, you know, being so  _ you  _ about it.” 

 

Harry smirked, but then it faded quickly when a thought must have popped into his mind. “Are you going to tell Ron?” 

 

“Mine and Draco’s friendship isn’t some deep, dark secret, Harry,” she told him as she began to pack up her belongings. “I’m not ashamed of it. But I’ll tell Ronald the next time we’re alone.” 

 

“If it wasn’t a deep, dark secret, why bother hiding it?” he asked as he fell into step with her, the two heading for the library doors. Hermione’s steps faltered and she shot him a look as if to say ‘ _ are you serious?’,  _ which only made Harry laugh and clap a hand on her shoulder. “Alright, point taken.” 

 

* * *

 

It had been just over two weeks since things had gotten heated between her and Draco in their room, and since then, they’d repeated both activities they had newly discovered, several times. After he had stopped trying to push her away, they fell back into their usual habits and met up in the room like they used to. Lately, he had been become quite absorbed in his exam preparation and studying for them, as they were just weeks away at this point. She wasn’t sure if he was doing to this to keep himself distracted, or to keep her distracted, but it didn’t matter at this point. They were finally going to talk about what had happened in the bathroom, and if he wouldn’t tell her what he was up to on his own, then perhaps she would find out for herself. 

 

It was a Sunday night, and they had rounds together, giving her the perfect opportunity to talk to him. She breathed a sigh of relief when he arrived on time and in seemingly good spirits. They had agreed to meet in the dungeons, allowing them privacy at the start of their rounds. He squeezed her arm gently and placed a kiss on her cheek. 

 

“Ready?” he asked, holding out his arm for her to take. They never, ever found anyone lurking around the dungeons; they weren’t a very romantic place to sneak a snogging session and it was much too eerie for students to cause mischief. 

 

“Ready,” she said, linking her arm through his. 

 

They stayed silent as they took their time patrolling the corridors, only the sound of their echoing footsteps filled the emptiness around them. Draco seemed stiff as he walked next to her, but then again it was quite frigid down in the dungeons, even if it was June. At that thought, she let out a shaky laugh. 

 

“What are you thinking?” he asked, sounding amused. 

 

“Just...it’s already June,” she admitted, sadness settling in the pit of her stomach. “And I don’t expect being able to see you over the summer holiday.” 

 

Draco scrunched his features in confusion. “Why not?” 

 

Hermione stopped them in their tracks and let out a laugh of disbelief. “You seriously think your parents would let me set on foot in their home?” She asked, purposely saying ‘parents’ instead of just his mother, as bringing up his father’s absence would  _ not _ be the right thing to do right then.

 

He shrugged and continued walking. “I turn seventeen in four days time, they don’t need to know of my exact whereabouts.” 

 

She raised an eyebrow at this. She hadn’t expected him to be so willing to defy his parents, least of all when it came to them. “Still,” she said. “It won’t be like it was this year. We can’t have a secret room all to ourselves,” she poked him in the ribs at this and earned a soft chuckle. They were making their way up to the main floor now, and he’d hardly said much. As they walked across the Entrance Hall to the staircase, she said, “Are you alright? You seem a bit off.” 

 

She expected him to shrug her off or completely ignore her question, but instead he stopped them and tightly gripped her arms. She let out a gasp when he first grabbed hold, but her breath was stolen as he just  _ stared  _ at her. His eyes icy gray eyes bore into hers, and whatever it was he was trying to accomplish she had no idea, but his silence was starting to unsettle her. 

 

“Draco--” 

 

“Come with me to the Room after we’re done rounds, okay?” he muttered, still not taking his eyes off of her.

 

“Okay,” she breathed. His muscles seemed to have relaxed as he let go of her arms and stepped back, letting out a sigh of relief. 

 

“Good, now let’s get going. I don’t want us out too late,” he said as they picked up their path and headed towards the second floor. 

 

The rest of their patrol was spent in minimal conversation and comfortable silences, as comfortable as a silence could be when she had no idea what was going on or why Draco was acting so odd. He held her hand in some of the darker, less travelled corridors and even pulled her behind a tapestry for a quick snog, but she had put an end to that after mere seconds and walked away saying, “We are  _ Prefects,  _ Draco. We’re the ones who are meant to set examples!” 

 

He had a smirk plastered on his face for a little while after that, but the closer they got to the seventh floor, the more anxious he seemed. After they finished patrolling the seventh floor, Draco led them back to the stretch of wall and told her to stand to the side. She waited with bated breath while Draco passed three times, muttering to himself. A door appeared a second later, and Hermione’s head cocked to the side when she realized it looked exactly like the door that appeared for their room.  _ Does it always look the same, then?  _ She wondered, as Draco took her hand and pulled her towards the door. Once inside, and without a shred of light in the place, she felt Draco block her path, pressing her against the door. 

 

“Granger,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. He grabbed her hands and held them in his. He stared down at their laced fingers while his thumb ran circles on her skin. “I--You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to show you. It’s imperative. I can’t show you unless--”

 

“Even if it’s dangerous?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her stomach was filling with dread the longer she stood there. “Even if I know it’s going to cause something bad?” 

 

Draco nodded slowly, his lips pursed. “You meant what you said in the infirmary?” he asked, his lips barely moving. 

 

She nodded in return. “Yes,” she whispered. 

 

“Promise me, Granger,” he said, every word dripping in desperation. “Please.” 

 

She knew this couldn’t be good. Whatever it was. “I promise,” she said, looking him in the eyes as she spoke. It was after she took a shaky breath that she said, “Otherwise he’ll kill you, won’t he?” 

 

When he nodded his head yes she couldn’t help the tears that filled her eyes. She didn’t stop Draco when he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, running a hand through her hair. “Hermione,” he whispered as his other hand rubbed circles on her back, but the sound of his voice saying her name only brought on a fresh wave of sadness. “Come on, it’s only getting later.” 

 

A glance down at her watch told her it was nearing midnight and she forced herself to step back and steady herself. She used her sleeve to dry her tears and offered him a weak smile and nodded. “Come on.” 

 

Draco muttered, “Lumos,” to her left and it was then that she saw mound after mound of what could only be described as junk. Old desks, damaged books, dusty furniture, broken lamps and other trinkets stacked in piles reaching towards the ceiling. She took it all in, her mouth slightly agape as they meandered through the piles until Draco stopped at a large object covered in a white sheet. 

 

He let go of her hand and stepped towards whatever it was hidden beneath the sheet. Hermione’s breathing was quick and shallow as his hand gripped the sheet and ripped it off. As it fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, she saw before her what looked to be a cabinet. There was intricate carving around the edge of it, and it’s wood was a deep brown, almost black. 

 

“This is why I’ve been coming here,” he said quietly, his voice wavering. “I...I fixed it.” 

 

She ran her tongue across her dry lips and took a step towards it. “This… This is the cabinet Montague got stuck in last year, isn’t it?” 

 

Draco lips turned up half-heartedly and when she cocked her head he said, “I thought you might remember.” 

 

“But what are you planning to do?” she asked, a million possibilities flashing through her mind. Draco’s face fell at this question and he looked down at his feet with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

 

“I can’t tell you that,” he said. “I’m sorry.” 

 

Hermione nodded and walked around the cabinet. “You fixed this by yourself?” 

 

Draco nodded and watched her as she walked. The piece of furniture was beautiful, the marks must have been hundreds of years old. But that was when all the pieces began to fall into place... The mysterious, advanced books she’d caught him looking through, his torn up hands, his extensive disappearances…

 

“That’s quite impressive,” she said, and she meant it. It  _ was  _ impressive; vanishing cabinets were tricky to meddle with, and the fact that he had managed to fix one, spoke volumes about his intelligence. 

 

Then she stopped. Her lips turned into a frown and she stood facing him, with her arms crossed. “You have to get out of this, Draco,” she said sternly. “I don’t know what it is you’re supposed to do, but you said so yourself it’s nothing good! There has to be a way--”

 

“There  _ is  _ no way,” he spat through gritted teeth. “Didn’t you hear what I said in the bathroom?  _ He’s going to kill me if I don’t!”  _

 

There it was. The words that had been haunting her for weeks now. Draco’s voice broke and her gaze flickered to his right hand latching itself around his left forearm. Her heart felt as though it had dropped to the bottom of her feet when the realization hit her. He  _ was  _ one of them, he bore the same mark as his Father. Harry had been right all along.

 

She forced her breathing to steady and shut her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, Draco was watching her. Waiting, gauging her reaction. “Oh, Draco…” she said sadly, closing the distance between them. She lifted a hand to brush away his fringe and let her hand run down his cheek. “Please, let me help you.” 

 

Draco shook his head, attempting to back away from her. “No,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I can’t make you stay away from me, but I won’t drag you into this. I  _ can’t.  _ Even if I wanted to...I can’t. Don’t act like you didn’t hear me that night. You know I have to do this alone.” 

 

He was out of her grasp, and she couldn’t force her legs to move towards him. She could hear his voice shaking, she could  _ feel  _ how terrified he was right now. “Draco, please,” she croaked. “You survived Harry’s attack, I’m sure we can--”

 

“I should have died on that bathroom floor!” he shouted, trying to put more distance between the two of them. “You should have just let me be so that none of this could happen!”

 

“How can you say that?!” she shot back, her frustration towards him building all over again. “Surely you don’t really mean--” 

 

“This entire castle would have been better off if I died that night!” he practically roared, guilt and rage contorting his features into someone she could hardly even  _ recognize  _ at the moment. 

 

Silence fell between them and Hermione merely stood there, letting the tears slip down her cheeks. Her body was shaking with rage. She had hated Voldemort for everything he’d already done; murdering Harry’s parents, constantly seeking death of her best friend, the followers he had convinced to do horrible, unspeakable things. It was because of Voldemort that Bellatrix Lestrange tortured Neville’s parents beyond repair. Sirius was dead because of her, too. And now...now Voldemort had broken a boy. A boy who was much too young to bear the Dark Mark. A boy who loved Astronomy and drew immaculate star charts, a boy who loved his Mother more than his own life. Underneath his polished appearance and boastful being, he was caring. He was intelligent, and witty, he was a boy who loved Quidditch. And he had sacrificed it all for this task. 

 

“Don’t say that,” she exclaimed. “That’s not true -- I wouldn’t be better off.” 

 

Draco let out a sigh as he let his head fall in his hands. As she stood there crying, he walked towards her and pulled her to him. With one arm firmly around her waist, he used the other to run his fingers through her hair. “You’re wrong, Granger. You, out of everyone, would be much better off.” 

 

* * *

 

She ran her fingers through his hair again; the sensation of his thin strands brushing against her skin calmed her. They were lounging on the bed in their room, Hermione propped up against the headboard while Draco laid across the bed with his head in her lap. They’d agreed to meet in their room after dinner that evening, the day after he had shown her what he’d been disappearing to do all year. He’d seemed rather tired in Potions and Ancient Runes, and he hadn’t really said much all day. But part of her understood. There had been so much going on lately, and with what Draco recently went through, she didn’t blame him for being more reserved. It was only Tuesday and yet it felt like it had been weeks.

 

Storms had invaded the castle grounds that day, bringing dark clouds, pouring rain and loud crashes of thunder. Her eyes felt heavy all day, and her body felt sore. It felt like heaven just to lay here with Draco, not saying anything, not studying. Just the two of them in complete silence, a crackling fire, and a comfy bed. Her mind was quiet, a miracle considered everything that was going on. 

 

“I told Harry that we’re friends,” she said softly. “When we finally talked about...that night.” 

 

She saw his features scrunch up and he turned his head towards her, but she saw a glint of happiness and shock in his eyes. “Really?” 

 

Hermione nodded. “I wanted to tell him we’re dating, but--”

 

“He hates me, yeah,” Draco finished for her, a smirk on his face. 

 

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Hate is a strong word.” 

 

He shrugged and turned his gaze back towards the ceiling. He laced his hands together and let them rest on his stomach. “I can’t stand him, it’s not like I mind.” 

 

She pursed her lips, but decided not to reply to that. He was getting her off track. “When we had first argued after it happened, he asked me why I helped you,” she said, her voice soft and her brows furrowed as she recalled their fight. “And at first I told him it was because I was a human being, and so were you, so why wouldn’t I help?” When he glanced at her, she knew what his sarcastic response was going to be, so before he could even say it, she added quickly, “Not that I wouldn’t have if we weren’t together, just... You know -- I wasn’t being truthful at the time, not completely.” 

 

“So what made you decide to tell him at least some of the truth?” he asked, his eyes fluttering closed as she continued to run her hand through his hair. 

 

“Keeping secrets only seemed to be doing more harm than good,” she said matter-of-factly. “It was exhausting, constantly bending the truth, avoiding saying anything and sneaking around. And before Harry and I talked--” she paused, as her voice became thick. “I started to wonder if I had told him sooner about us… If things would have turned out differently. If the whole...incident could have been avoided.” 

 

Draco sat up quickly and wrapped her in his arms, cradling her head against his chest. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s over now.”

 

She sniffed and nodded her head. “I know,” she said, her voice uneven. “I just don’t want something else like that happening.” 

 

She felt him kiss the top of her head before he pulled away and used his thumb to brush against her cheek. “What did Potter have to say?” he asked. 

 

“Surprisingly, not much,” she told him, sitting up. “He wasn’t angry, he just -- didn’t understand at first.” Draco seemed surprised at this too and he moved to sit next to her and put his hand on her knee. “He said he didn’t like it and I should be careful, but he can’t tell me what to do. Plus it’s not as if he listens to anything I tell him not to do,” she said. 

 

He laughed at that last bit and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She let her head rest against his shoulder and he rested his head on hers. They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain pound down outside and the wind rattle the windows. Draco took her hand in his free one and intertwined their fingers. “He’s right, you know,” Draco said bitterly. “I hate admitting that, but Potter’s right. You should be careful.” 

 

Hermione let out a heavy sigh and pulled herself out of his grasp. She leaned against the headboard and began picking at her nails as she stared into her lap. “You know...you and Harry are actually quite similar,” she whispered, glancing at him only out of the corner of her eye. 

 

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes, drawing his knees to his chest. “Like he and I could have anything in common,” he muttered, but it lacked the hatred and disgust he normally held when talking about Harry. 

 

“You both care about those you love so greatly and so fiercely,” she said quietly, still not meeting his gaze. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest and her throat felt dry, but she forced herself to continue. A smile grazed her lips before flickering back into a line. “You’re both thickheaded, determined to complete impossible tasks on your own--” she paused and waited to see if he would react, but when remained silent, she continued. “You refuse to ask for help because you don’t want to endanger those you care about. But like I tell Harry, I’m not going anywhere. You can ignore me and push me away with all your might, but you’re forgetting that I have a say in us. And I’m not letting you go.” He scooted closer to her and fished for her hand and locked their fingers together. “Harry accepted that years ago,” she told him, her voice still soft, but gentler this time. “Maybe it’s time you should too.” 

 

* * *

 

Hermione was still grumbling under her breath when she left the library on Wednesday night. She and Harry had been debating earlier whether or not the Half-Blood Prince could have been a woman, and after a few hours searching through old copies of Daily Prophet’s, she’d come up empty. She had been so determined, but to no avail. When she returned to the common room, she had expected Harry to be there waiting to see what she had found, but instead she found Ron sitting by the fire alone. 

 

She sat down in the chair next to him and set her bag down beside her. “Where’s Harry?” 

 

“Dumbledore’s office,” he told her. “Said he wanted Harry to come as quickly as possible.” 

 

Her eyes widened at the news as a wave of nerves rippled through her. “Really?” asked, her voice slightly higher than it usually was. “You don’t think--”

 

“It’s possible,” Ron said with a shrug. “He didn’t leave that long ago.” 

 

Hermione settled into a more comfortable position and began to dig through her bag. If Harry was at Dumbledore’s office, she and Ron would just have to wait for when he returned. She still had a few chapters of Herbology to read, and an essay to write for History of Magic, but her conversation with Harry in the library a few nights ago kept ringing in her ears. 

 

_ It’s not some deep, dark secret…  _

 

_ I’ll talk to Ron the next time we’re alone…  _

 

She inhaled sharply and turned in her chair so she was facing Ron. “Can I talk to you about something?” 

 

Ron looked up at the most recent Quidditch plays Harry had sketched out, a grin on his face. “Sure.” 

 

“Well,” she said, fiddling with the sleeve of her cardigan. “Remember how upset I was after the bathroom incident with Harry?” 

 

He nodded, furrowing his brows, and he turned to give her his full attention. “Yeah?” 

 

Hermione bit down on her lip. She’d meant what she said to Harry in the library. She was not ashamed of her friendship  _ or  _ her relationship with Draco, but she knew how much Harry and Ron disliked Draco. And out of the two of them, Ron had the worst temper. 

 

“I wasn’t lying when I said I was upset because Harry used a curse he knew _nothing_ about, because I was,” she rambled. “And I wasn’t lying when I said that I was upset because Draco had been innocent in the situation when Harry attacked him, _because I was_.” She drew in a large breath, and braced herself for the worst. “But the biggest reason I was upset, is because… I’ve developed a friendship with Draco.” 

 

Ron’s features crinkled in confusion, and Hermione couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. But then he let out a hearty chuckle, a laugh that had him clutching his stomach and lolling his head back. “Good one, Hermione. You and Malfoy, friends. Right.” 

 

Hermione frowned and leaned forward in her chair. “I’m not lying, Ron. I’m serious. Draco is my--” 

 

But at that moment the portrait hole burst open and Harry came barrelling through, looking thrilled and shocked. Hermione and Ron stood up at once, her heart was already starting to pound in her chest. “Well?” Ron said anxiously. “Is it happening? Are you--”

 

“Just give me thirty seconds, I’ll be right back!” Harry shouted as he took the stairs to the boys’ dormitory two at a time. 

 

Ron turned to look at her and shrugged. Hermione smiled weakly at him in return. They could hear the heavy thud of Harry’s footsteps as he came back down, his invisibility cloak thrown over his shoulder, and two objects clutched tightly in his hands, one of which she could see was the Marauder’s Map. 

 

“I don’t have much time,” he panted. “Listen, on my way to Dumbledore’s office I ran into Professor Trelawney. She told me she heard someone celebrating in the Room of Requirement…” Dread filled Hermione’s stomach, but she forced herself to keep her mouth shut. “Look, Hermione, I know we don’t see eye to eye but Dumbledore and I are leaving. So I need you guys to keep a look out, alright?” 

 

She made to protest but Harry shot her a look before glancing at the portrait hole. “Please, just...do this, alright? Watch the map, and if need be, round up some of the old D.A. members. Oh, hold on, there’s one more thing.” He shoved a pair of socks into Ron’s hands. “It’s Felix Felicis,” he explained quickly. 

 

“But Harry!” she said as Harry made to leave. “Won’t you need this more than us?” 

 

“I’ll be fine!” he yelled over his shoulder as the portrait hole swung open. “Don’t worry about me, and keep Ginny safe, will you?” 

 

Hermione nodded curtly as Ron continued to stare at the tiny vial in his hands. Harry disappeared and the portrait swung shut. She turned to look at Ron, who looked just as bewildered as she felt. All intentions of continuing her conversation with Ron went out the window as she stared at the blank map in her hands. 

 

“Should we do what he asked?” Ron asked. “I mean, you don’t think…”

 

Hermione bit her lip. She didn’t  _ want  _ to believe that something bad could happen that night, that Harry would be right and Draco would use this opportunity to do whatever it was he needed to do. But he was desperate, and as he had said...if he didn’t complete his task, he would be dead. This thought alone was enough to convince her to reveal the map. She tapped the parchment with the tip of her wand and muttered, “I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.” 

 

The two watched as the castle came to life on the old parchment. Hermione opened it quickly and sighed in relief when she saw Draco’s dot in his common room with Zabini, Nott and Parkinson. Ron was once again focused on the tiny bottle of Felix Felicis. “I’ll go and find those coins we used with the D.A. last year,” she mumbled. “Better to have people ready in case something does change…” 

 

Hermione climbed the stairs to the girls’ dormitory and when she got to the top, she shut the door quickly behind her and let her body rest against it. She closed her eyes, the map in one hand and her wand in the other, and let out a deep breath. Maybe Draco would have no idea that the Headmaster had left. Maybe Harry would be wrong, and she and Ron could spend the night in the common room, waiting for him to return. She opened her eyes and was greeted with almost complete darkness. The dim moonlight casted shadows among the walls as Hermione rummaged through her trunk and side table for even just one coin. 

 

She managed to find one lone gold coin at the very bottom of her trunk. Before she left her dormitory, she checked the map and was glad to see Draco was still in his dormitory. Ron was waiting for her, perched on the arm of a chair, and it seemed Ginny had joined him as she was standing by the fire looking anxious but ready for whatever was about to happen.

 

"Ron filled me in," Ginny told he as she joined the two of them.

 

"Good," she replied, fiddling with the edges of the gold coin. "I think it's best we all meet up and stand by, just in case."

 

She couldn't really explain it, the feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach. The air felt prickly, sparking with electricity, as if it too was waiting for something to happen. She'd seen proof that Draco was in his common room, but something was telling her to take Harry's precautions seriously. Draco had shown her the cabinet; there was a passageway into this castle that no one else knew about.

 

"Do you think there's enough in here for the other D.A. members that show up?" Ron asked, holding up the bottle for all three to examine in the light.

 

"I'm not sure," Hermione muttered. "Let's head down to the sixth floor, I told them to meet us there. By that painting of Temeritus Shanks."

 

The two Weasleys followed her out, and the three headed for the sixth floor. Hermione wove through her thoughts as they walked, wands gripped tightly in their hands. She was gnawing on the inside of her cheek, debating whether or not she should follow through with her idea...

When they arrived, they saw Neville, Luna, Seamus, Lavender, Dean, Parvati and Ernie standing in front of the ceiling to floor canvas. They were only a few feet away when Hermione tugged at the sleeve of Ginny's cardigan and motioned for her to stay back. Only when she saw that Ron was greeting the other D.A. members did she whisper to Ginny, "You and Ron fill them in. Then, split into twos and spreads yourselves across this floor and the seventh. Station one pair by the Room of Requirement. I'll meet up with you guys in a few minutes."

 

Ginny furrowed her brows and stole a glance at the rest of the D.A. before her she flickered back to Hermione. The two remained silent, and Hermione felt that Ginny knew exactly where her mind was. "Do what you need to do," Ginny muttered. "Just take a swig of Felix before you go, alright?"

  
With a sip of Felix Felicis pumping through her body, and a vague response to Ron's inquiry of her whereabouts, she headed towards the dungeons, seeking the only person she could go to.

 

* * *

Hermione's stomach was in knots as she stood outside of Professor Snape's office, her knuckles braced to knock on the dark wood. Her breathing hitched as she waited for the Professor to answer -- if he even would that is. It was late, and he had every reason to be asleep, but only a few seconds had passed before the door was thrust open and a dim orange glow fell over her, streaming into the dark dungeon hall. Snape's cold eyes narrowed at the sight of her, his lip curling unpleasantly.

"Do you have any idea--" he drawled, staring down at her over his hooked nose.

"Professor Dumbledore left with Harry and Harry warned us that Draco might try and do something--something bad and..." she trailed off as embarrassment washed over her.

Coming to get Snape suddenly seemed like a ridiculous idea, but she knew Professor McGonagall wouldn't have taken her seriously -- the elder witch had told Harry time and again she thought his accusations to be wild and inappropriate. She bit her lip as Snape continued to stare down at her, a bored expression etched onto his oily features. And then it came to her.

"I overheard your conversation with Draco the night of Slughorn's party," she gushed, her cheeks turning red the moment she finished. "I-I'm not saying Harry's right, but I know...some things about Draco and, well, isn't it better to be safe than sorry?"

Snape merely blinked, his expression blank. She waited with bated breath for his answer. "You care for the boy?" he said softly, his words more of a statement than a question. "Draco."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes," she said. There was no point in lying about it, not now. Not when something terrible could happen.

His eyes flickered down to the map in her hands and the gold coin in the other. He pursed his lips, and she knew he was aware that Dumbledore's Army was yet again, together. He looked back at her and nodded his head once before motioning for her to leave. Hermione walked away, not knowing if he was going to alert the Order for help, and returned to meet up with the rest of Dumbledore’s Army.

She didn't check the map again until she reached the fourth floor and she felt her heart drop when she couldn't find Draco anywhere on the parchment.  _ No, no, no _ , she thought. Her steps quickened as she raced to find other members of the D.A., and it was when she came across Ernie and Parvati that she was told Ginny was waiting for her on the seventh floor. With her heart thundering in her chest, she dashed off towards the seventh floor and found Ginny at the end of the corridor that held the Room of Requirement.

"Draco's...in there," she panted, nodding towards the corridor behind Ginny. The redhead frowned and whirled around to stare at the empty corridor.

"It took us a few minutes to partner up..." Ginny said guiltily. "Lavender refused to partner with Ron, Dean wouldn't even look at me."

Hermione pursed her lips in disapproval at the other's behavior but said nothing. Her mind was racing as her heart rate slowed and air returned to her lungs.  _ I could go in there _ , she thought. She knew what the room looked like. Ginny, however, seemed to have read her mind because she had gripped her arm tightly and glared at her fiercely.

" _ No. Way _ ," Ginny warned fiercely. "Don't even think for a second that--"

"I could stop this, Ginny!" Hermione shouted, yanking her arm out of the redhead's grasp. "I could talk some sense--"

But she was cut off when a loud crash sounded from behind her, at the end of the corridor she had come from. She and Ginny stilled, their eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound. They heard someone shouting, and another crash before the two girl took off running to the commotion. As they drew closer, they could see Lavender and Seamus trying to fend off Nott, Crabbe and an older Slytherin that Hermione didn't recognize. Hermione fired a leg-locking curse at Nott and hit him squarely in his abdomen. He fell with a thud to the floor and looked around wildly for the source of the spell. His lips curled into a snarl. "Why am I not surprised?" he shouted angrily.

Hermione ignored him and helped Lavender fight off the older Slytherin, who even Hermione had to admit was quick with his spells. It felt like for every spell they shot, he shot two back. It didn't take long for Ginny to hit Crabbe with a body-bind curse, leaving the other Slytherin four against one. He seemed to realize this as he narrowly missed a spell fired by Seamus, and took off running down the corridor, not even glancing back.

The four Gryffindors gathered their breaths, hunched over, gripping their knees. "Seems like Felix is doing the trick," Ginny commented darkly. "That guy was good, and yet neither one if us got hit by him."

Hermione bit her lip at the thought. Ginny was right. Now she just hoped that the potion would continue to work its magic should more chaos break out. Just as she was about to check the map again, they heard a high-pitched, maniacal, blood curdling shriek of laughter and another crash. Hermione  _ knew _ that laugh; she had heard it after Sirius died...as Bellatrix Lestrange ran away from the scene. Her stomach filled with dread and before she even realized it, the four of them took off running.  _ He's let Death Eaters into the school... _ Hermione thought as they grew closer to the noise.  There were several loud voices now and she could already see small piles of rubble all over the stone floor.

Bellatrix and Dolohov were closest to them, and a loud crash from below told her that there were more Death Eaters roaming around the castle. Ginny and Lavender were already firing spells at the two Death Eaters, trying to take them down from a distance. But as Ginny wasn't learning non-verbal spells, they had expected it and blocked both spells with ease. Hermione watched a jet of blue light whiz by her ear as she pointed her wand directly at Bellatrix, not daring to open her mouth. She wouldn't let them know what was coming.

The battle between the six of them only intensified when another Death Eater showed up and, had it not been for the Felix Felicis, Hermione would have been taken out. Bellatrix seemed to have her focus fixated on Hermione and Ginny while the other two fought off Dolohov and the unknown Death Eater. It felt like it was dragging on forever; the Death Eaters kept missing them, and grew angrier every time it happened. Hermione was quite sure Bellatrix had fired a Killing Curse at them, so outraged that she hadn't managed to take down two teenage girls.

Ginny was wielding a ferocious shield charm for the two of them, while Hermione poked around to fight back. A stream of orange flew by her from behind and Hermione whirled around to see who had cast it. She saw Remus running towards them, his glare murderous and his eyes fixed on Bellatrix. As he ran past, he ordered her and Ginny to take cover. Hermione hesitated, but Ginny was grabbing her hand and leading them away from the fight, the shield charm still in place.

Only when they were behind a large chunk of wall that was still intact did she check the map and when she found Draco on the paper, she felt her throat run dry and her heart stop for a moment. The names glared up at her as drank in their location.

_ Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore. Astronomy Tower. _

* * *

 

**Draco**

“Expelliarmus!” he shouted, his wand pointed directly at their headmaster. His entire body was shaking as he stood in the doorway. It was here: his task. What he had been trying to do all year…

He took a few steps towards Dumbledore, wondering with each step when his knees were going to buckle. The Headmaster smiled at him. _Bastard_ , Draco thought. _As if this isn’t hard enough._

“Ah, Draco. Good evening,” Dumbledore said calmly, though Draco noticed he looked ill. His skin was whiter than usual and he could see the old man was leaning against the railings of Astronomy Tower for support. He forced himself to step closer still. His eyes flickered slightly to Dumbledore’s left and noticed two broomsticks. His eyes grew wide and his heart began to pound in his chest. 

“There’s someone else with you,” he said, though it came out as more of a question. 

Dumbledore tilted his head upwards, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “May I ask you the same question? Surely you’re not acting alone.” 

Draco swallowed the lump that was already forming in his throat. Dumbledore was only feet away from him and he should do it now... End it before they can even continue this conversation.  _ Just do it,  _ he told himself.  _ Think of Mother… _

“I might have backup,” he said slowly. “Death Eaters. And they’re in your castle.” 

The Headmaster let out a soft chuckle and laced his hands together. Dumbledore rocked on his heels. “Nicely done, Draco. This means, of course, you’ve found a way to let them in.” 

“Of course I did!” he all but cried. His arm was shaking now, his wand bobbing up and down slightly. “I did all of this right under your nose!” 

He’d worked all year to make this happen. He’d spent countless nights and days locked up in the Room of Requirement, trying to make that blasted cabinet work, and now, he’d finally done it. But now was the most important part of the task, killing the Headmaster. Draco had always thought he was a bit loony, and too old for the job, but he’d never wanted the man dead. Not really. Not like  _ they  _ wanted him dead, Voldemort and his followers. His stomach churned as he remembered the excitement on his Aunt Bellatrix’s face when she had heard of his task. 

“You’ve done well, Draco,” Dumbledore said quietly. “However, I’d like to point out that you are in fact, alone.” 

Draco snarled at the old man. He was well aware of the fact that he was alone and it was unsettling, yet comforting at the same time. “They got caught up with your lot,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I, however, needed to proceed. There’s something I must do.” 

Dumbledore waved a hand dismissively and smiled at him. “Do what you need to do, Draco.” 

He couldn’t move. Dumbledore was just...going to let him do it? Draco had disarmed him, yes, but...the old wizard wasn’t even going to convince him not to? He wasn’t going to keep him talking? His mind was racing as he stood at the top of the Astronomy Tower, the Dark Mark casting a sickly green light upon the two of them. There wasn’t a single part of him that didn’t wish he could be asleep with the rest of his housemates right now, hardly a worry in the world. He wasn’t ready for this… He’d thought that he was, thought he could handle being one of them, but how could he be if he couldn’t even kill their Headmaster? An old man, weakened and without a wand. 

“You are no killer, Draco,” Dumbledore said softly, peering at him over his half-moon spectacles. 

“Yeah?” he snapped. “What makes you so sure?” 

Dumbledore’s doubt angered him. How many people who knew of this task thought he was going to fail? How many doubted that he could do this? His cheeks grew hot the more he stewed over it. The things that he’d done prior to this school year...the things he’d done  _ during  _ this school year. No one had any idea...not even Granger. His heart lurched at the thought. If she ever knew… 

“You have no idea what I’m capable of, _sir_ ,” he said, feigning a confidence he definitely did not have. “Nor what I’ve done.” 

“No?” the Headmaster replied calmly. “I know it was you, Draco. It was you who almost killed Katie Bell and Ron Weasley. But I was your true target, wasn’t I? All year… All these implausible attempts… I am unsure as to whether you’ve been trying your hardest.” 

But Draco was hardly listening. All he could see was Granger and himself, lying on a blanket looking at the stars. He could hear her laughter ringing in his head. If someone had told him even just at the start of this year, that he would have fallen for Hermione Granger, he would have cursed them on the spot, but somehow, she had gotten under his skin. She’d buried herself in the deepest parts of him and refused to let go.  _ Ask Dumbledore for help,  _ she had told him. 

“Draco?” Dumbledore said, his voice louder than before. 

He shook his head, clearing the image from his mind. “I have been working hard,” he said, his voice low. “For my mother...for my father and for myself.” 

At that moment, the ground shook. Draco let out an involuntary yelp, his body frozen. He was running out of time. The rest of the Death Eaters could be here any minute. His breathing was becoming more shallow by the minute. 

“Your backup may be here soon,” Dumbledore said. “Speaking of them, how did you manage it?” 

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. There were more yells and bangs below them, and he feared that something had happened to Hermione by now. She hadn’t seen him dash around a corner, but he had seen her, and all he had wanted was to grab her and get the two of them to safety.  _ Please let her be safe.  _

“You still have a job to do, yes?” Dumbledore spoke again. “Best you get on with it now. I am, of course, wandless.” 

But Draco couldn’t move. His wand was still pointed at Dumbledore, but he was paralysed with fear. He didn’t want this. He never wanted any of this. But what other choice did he have? 

_ “Fail,” Voldemort hissed in his ear, a hand on each of his shoulders. “And you and your family die. Parents first, of course. So you can see the consequences to your actions, or lack thereof in this case. Not before I show them the delights of being on the receiving end of my Crucio, though...”  _

_ Draco squeezed his eyes shut and nodded profusely, wishing nothing more than for the foul man to get as far away from his as possible.  _

A sob escaped his throat and he hated himself for every tear that slid down his cheeks. Their Headmaster did nothing but stand there and watch as Draco fought to control his emotions. He thought of the night Hermione had asked him to meet her up here in the Tower after Weasley’s poisoning, to tell him Potter was keeping track of his whereabouts. He’d wanted to end it then, but she’d insisted on sticking with him. His heart lurched again when he realized that all along, all the times that Granger had warned him about Potter to keep their secret safe, had helped him get to where he was now. 

“How did you do it, Draco?” Dumbledore asked, seeming genuinely interested. 

It took him a moment to find his voice before he replied faintly, “Vanishing Cabinet. In the Room of Requirement. Its pair is at Borgin and Burkes.” 

“But of course, it wasn’t so easy to accomplish, was it?” Dumbledore mumbled. Draco was rather unsure whether the Headmaster was talking to himself or to him. “No, of course not. So, ah -- Ah, that was when you attempted the poison...and the necklace. I can see how you thought these were good ideas when feeling panicked and vulnerable.” 

Draco’s wand dropped a centimeter or two. Tears were silently slipping down his cheeks and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold off his sobs. If he didn’t kill him now, his parents would die. And Draco knew that Voldemort intended for him to witness his parent’s torture and death, something that he didn’t want to see, not even in his nightmares. Of course that nightmare had been haunting him all year, but it was something he desperately did not want to see come true. 

_ I can help you, Draco. Please, let me help you.  _

Granger’s voice kept ringing in his head and it was giving him a headache. She didn’t understand...she just didn’t understand. What would happen to his parents if she and her lot could help? Would they just be left to die anyway? Would Voldemort kill them in a rage once he would find out where he’d gone? 

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and tried to rid her voice in his head, but all he could see was the two of them. In their room, lounging on the couch and carpet as they did homework. Hermione on top of him, kissing him passionately with her hands scratching at his chest and gripping his shoulders. The two of them running away from the giant squid as it threw rocks at them. Hermione smiling at him from across their library table, the sunshine illuminating the honey colored flecks in her bright brown eyes, her wild mane of curls framing her face. They were down in the kitchens drinking hot chocolate and eating cookies...they were lying in their bed talking, snuggling...Hermione was crying onto his shoulder...and Draco was lying on the flooded bathroom floor with his head in Hermione’s lap, her face slowly disappearing from his vision. 

_ We have each other, Draco. Always. I promise you that.  _

Draco’s eyes snapped open. Dumbledore was still standing before him. “I think it is time for us to discuss your options, Draco.” 

He opened his mouth to retort, but Dumbledore held up his head to silence him. “Please, allow me to finish. I know about your relationship with Ms. Granger. I know that you two have grown quite close. Oh yes, Draco--” he said with a smile as Draco’s eyes widened in disbelief. “But I was most pleased with this. We both know what is going to happen in just a few minutes time, but after it does, you will have a choice. You can follow your backup and return to your family and home, or you can find Ms. Granger and tell her you want to be on our side. Trust me when I say protection can be provided, for you and your family, Draco. Do you understand?” 

All Draco could manage to do was nod. But could the Order really hide his family so well that Voldemort wouldn’t be able to carry out his threat? Would they truly be safe? The thought of leaving Granger behind made him feel sick to his stomach and weak in the knees. She had been his rock this year, and he had no idea why she put up with him. 

“Good--”

The door behind Draco burst open and he spun around quickly to see Amycus, Alecto, Greyback and someone he didn’t recognize striding over to the pair of them. Draco shuddered at the sight of the werewolf and moved out of the way so as not to get too close. He watched in silence as the Headmaster acknowledged his backup. 

“Letting a werewolf into the school that houses your friends, Draco?” Dumbledore said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. 

Draco looked at Greyback quickly before averting his gaze. “No…” he stammered. “He wasn’t supposed to be here.” 

But Greyback spoke to Dumbledore as though Draco wasn’t there, which for the time being, he wasn’t complaining about. He didn’t want to be here in the first place. His mind drifted back to Granger again...the way the skin on his neck tingled when she ran her hands through his hair...the smell of her shampoo as he nuzzled his head in the crook of her neck...her gentle touch...the way her nose crinkled when she was angry…

“Draco!” Amycus snapped, whacking him upside the head. “ _ Do it now!  _ What are you waiting for?!” 

Somewhere below them, a loud voice boomed, “Reducto!” making Draco jump. He looked back at the four Death Eaters and swallowed the lump in his throat. Every inch of his body was shaking now. His heart was pounding violently against his ribcage. 

_ My mum always told me to listen to my gut. That no matter what, your gut is always right.  _

“For Merlin’s sake, do it now!” the Death Eater Draco didn’t recognize yelled, waving his arm at him angrily. 

Greyback snarled and stepped forward, ready to snatch Draco’s wand from him, but Draco stepped back as the Death Eater blasted the werewolf away with a wave of his wand. “If you won’t do it then move aside so one of us can do it!” Alecto shouted from behind him. 

The door burst open again, but this time it was Snape gliding towards them all. His gaze was fixed on the Headmaster as his cloak billowed behind him. Draco watched with wide eyes as Snape approached Dumbledore, leaving only a foot or two between them. 

“Snape,” Amycus snarled. “Draco hasn’t yet--” 

Draco felt his blood run cold when he heard the Headmaster whisper faintly, “Severus.” 

He watched, his breath caught in his throat, as Snape stepped forward and then he was pushed by the Potions Master, knocking him into the cold, metal railing. Draco stared at the pair of them, noticed the pleading look in Dumbledore’s eyes and the cold, emptiness of Snape’s. Draco let out a quiet sob and braced his weight upon the railing, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand. 

“Please, I beg of you...Severus,” Dumbledore spoke once more. 

Without hesitation, without wasting another second, Snape raised his wand and said, “Avada Kedavra!” 

Draco let out a gasp as he watched the green light shoot from the end of Snape’s wand and hit Dumbledore directly in the chest. He watched in horror as Dumbledore’s body toppled slowly over the railing and fell down, down, down towards the darkness of the grounds. A sob escaped his throat as he sunk down to his knees. He stared down at the darkness, unable to tell exactly where their Headmaster had landed. 

  
He felt a hand under his arm, pulling him to his feet. Draco was still staring down at the ground when he felt a hand latch onto his shoulder. He looked up to see Snape staring down at him, his expression unreadable. “We need to go, Draco. Now.” 


	31. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter written by oeuvre, remember she is posting on her fanficton.net page too. Apologies first of all for the chapter being a day late, avdubs doesn't have internet so it was hard for her to beta this chapter and send it back. If you want to keep completely updated on this story, please check out our tumblrs; hexrmionegranger (oeuvre24), avdubs (avdubs). Thank you all for your lovely comments on the last chapter, your reviews make it all worthwhile. Enjoy!

_ I’m so close to him _ , Hermione thought, staring at the Map where it was clear to see Draco was only one set of stairs away from her, up in the Astronomy Tower. Ginny glanced over her shoulder and saw the names too and tensed beside her. “Look,” she said, pointing at another name she had seen that Hermione had missed. The name of Bellatrix Lestrange on the Map was quickly moving through the first floor and out onto the grounds, and both girls watched until her name passed the school boundary and disappeared.

 

“She’s gone…” Hermione breathed, furrowing her brows. Bellatrix had fled the fight… Or she was preparing the man she served to get ready.

 

“We can’t leave everyone else fighting,” the redhead said, not voicing what the both of them were thinking, and made the decision for the both of them that they had to keep going.

 

Hermione’s hands shook as she folded the map up and tucked it into her waistband and peeked around the corner they had hidden themselves behind. Further up the corridor was a group of Order members firing spell after spell at three heavily cloaked Death Eaters. With a surge of confidence, only there because of the help of Felix Felicis, Hermione launched herself from behind the wall and ran towards the group, shooting off stunning spells, trying her hardest to catch at least one of the Death Eaters.

 

They were quick though, and threw up shield charms and dodged with quick footwork. One of them was caught in a spell Lupin had cast, and sank to their knees, and the two others watched their member fall to the ground, and from behind Hermione, Ginny ran forward and shot a spell, managing to hit one of them.

 

“Impedimenta!” Hermione yelled as she ran forward, pointing her wand at one of the Death Eaters that had remained standing, but started running her way. From their scream, Hermione knew it was a woman, and she shuddered to a stop, her knees protesting the sudden movement, and she almost toppled forward. Of course she had known that Voldemort did not care for who joined his ranks, as long as they were loyal to him and only him. Not once had Hermione thought of women being involved in the Death Eaters, not apart from Bellatrix Lestrange. Long gone were her visions of running from tall, cloak-shrouded men, replaced with the idea that no-one could be trusted. No man, woman,  _ or _ child, now that she knew Draco had been with them all along… 

 

_ No _ , a voice roared in her head, telling her to keep focused. Draco didn’t want any of this; he had promised her he didn’t, he had promised her he didn’t want to do anything that would hurt her.  _ But he’s up in that Tower _ , she thought again, and looked down the hallway where the entrance to the Astronomy Tower was. She could get there… She could, if she just… 

 

“Hermione!” Ginny screamed and the younger witch’s hand reached out and pulled Hermione back, just as the sound of splitting stone filled the air. Hermione stumbled back with Ginny, the both of them falling to the floor, while the rest of the Order and Death Eaters who had heard the noise ran back too. The ceiling crumbled, sending with it piles of debris and a cloud of dust that started to settle all around them. The fighting didn’t cease, and spells were sent flying once more from both sides.

 

She dragged Ginny backwards, pulling her to the wall so their backs were covered. “Are you okay?” Hermione panted, checking her over.

 

“I’m fine, we need to _ go _ ,” Ginny said, and pushed up from the floor and hauled Hermione up with her.

 

Hermione watched as Remus revealed himself from behind a larger pile of debris and shot a spell at a Death Eater’s back, sending them flying to the ground, skidding face first along the dust-covered stone.

 

A dark figure was running towards her and Ginny, and Hermione got her wand up just in time. “Impedimenta!” She yelled, cutting off the Death Eater’s curse as they said it, and sent them flying backwards into the opposite wall with a scream… It had been another woman. Hermione’s hands shook, and she turned around to see any more potential threats, but a sound at the end of the corridor stopped her. A cracking sound of wood hitting stone sounded, and she ducked behind a crumbling pillar and peeked out to see what had happened.

 

Too many emotions invaded her when she saw who was running down the corridor. Snape was running, one arm up in front holding his wand out, while the other was gripped onto Draco’s shoulder, pulling him along too. Hermione froze, unable to get a word out, unable to even  _ breathe _ .

 

The both of them ran passed and Hermione came to her senses enough to push off the pillar, but her legs failed her, sending her toppling to her knees, skinning her palms on the ground. She winced but pushed up and began to run. “Draco!” She screamed as loud as she could. It felt like she was in a dream… A nightmare… One where no matter how hard she ran, she couldn’t keep up, and no matter how loud she yelled, no-one could hear.

 

But, to her hatred, this was real life.

 

Draco heard her, and turned back as he ran, his own legs stumbling as he tried to stop. His eyes were wide, and his jaw slackened when he saw her, and she wanted nothing more than to get to him. His cheeks were streaked with tears, and just as she moved to run forward, something sliced at her arm. She hadn’t checked before moving, and for her foolishness, hadn’t seen one of the Death Eaters line her up and shoot a curse at her. Thankfully, whatever it had been had obviously missed where it had been aimed, but her arm stung as she began to bleed, the cut having gone right down her forearm.

 

“Hermione!” Draco yelled and she saw him try to yank his arm from Snape’s hold.

 

“No, Draco,” Snape snapped. “We have to go now.”

 

A sob burst from her throat as she watched Draco be torn away, pulled to run alongside Snape down the corridor. She could feel the warm stickiness of her blood dripping down her sleeve and onto her hand and felt like she was going to collapse. This was too much… She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t a fighter. She didn’t feel brave.

 

She’d lost him.

 

“Hermione!” Her name was yelled, and it was Ginny once again, and the redhead was sprinting towards her. “Go! Follow him!” She stopped running and her hair flew forward as she raised her wand and shouted a jinx at someone running towards them both. “Run, Hermione!” She shouted again.

 

Her yelling had brought Hermione back to the present. Back to her logic. She could get to Draco. She knew that he didn’t want any of this, and she could help him. She’d do whatever she could to make sure he was safe and okay. To make sure he wasn’t involved in this anymore. She took off running, her already high heart-rate going through the roof as she thundered down the corridor. Blood was dripping steadily from her arm now and she tried not to think about it. Her wand was raised in front of her with a curse on the tip of her tongue every time she rounded a corner, but thankfully, there was no Death Eater waiting for her.

  
A bloody footprint was at the staircase, leading Hermione to where Draco and Snape had ran, and she went down the stairs faster than she ever had in her life before. She jumped the last two and was panting heavily as she ran, her lungs were burning and her legs were starting to cramp up the more stairs she descended.

 

“What’s going on?” A student yelled when she ran passed a group of several people, the first floor was beginning to fill with students. Hermione almost barrelled into a younger student and had to jump out of the way. Her thoughts were only on Draco. She had to reach him before he went through Hogwarts’ wards. Once he did, Snape would apparate him away and then… She didn’t want to think about what would happen then.

 

She ran down the Grand Staircase and if it were any other situation she would have been surprised at the number of students and Professors in the main entrance, but she pushed her way violently through the crowd to get to the door which was wide open.

 

It was cold outside and as the chilly air hit her face it made her even more alert, if that was possible. Blood was steadily dripping from her arm now, but she couldn’t feel any of the pain that had been there when she’d first been hit by the curse. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest it felt like it was rattling her whole body. Her breathing was coming in shuddering pants as she tried to catch her breath, but there was no time. There was a gut-churning, sickening green hue across the grounds from the illumination of the Dark Mark which still shone brightly in the sky over the Astronomy Tower, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at it.

 

Her eyes were only ahead, where she could see Snape and Draco, moving slower than they had been in the castle, but still steadfastly making their way to the gates of the school.

 

“Draco!” She screamed as loud as she possibly could. “Draco, wait!” She screamed again and started running once more. Behind her, the sound of students and Professors piling out into the lawns was heard, but she didn’t turn back. She ran as fast as her legs could take her down the slope of the lawns, and in the future she would look back and wonder how on Earth she didn’t slip or twist her ankle. “Draco!” She yelled, and let out a sob as she ran. She was so exhausted; physically  _ and _ emotionally. She couldn’t stop though, she needed to get to him. Somehow, deep down, she knew that this was life or death.

 

She was gaining ground on the both of them and Snape’s hand was still firmly clutched to Draco’s sleeve, but Hermione could see the latter was trying to slow; trying to turn around to her.

 

“Draco, please!” She sobbed, her voice not as loud as it could be, and her body was quickly telling her to stop. Her heart was thundering, her blood was rushing, her muscles were screaming at her to stop running -- everything wanted her to stop. Everything but her mind.

 

She was now only fifteen or so feet from the both of them, and  _ they _ were around twenty-five feet from the gates of the school. Her eyes widened when Draco managed to yank his arm from Snape’s hold, and what she heard him call made her come to a standstill in a matter of seconds. “I want out!” Draco yelled at Snape, and a sob cut through the air. “I don’t want this anymore!”

 

“Draco, we need to go, it’s imperati--”

 

“ _ No _ !” Draco screamed and another sob tore from his throat. “I can’t do this anymore. I need out.”

 

Snape was silent, his arms hanging by his sides as he stared hard at Draco. Hermione was still gasping for air, trying to keep herself from falling to her knees. And Draco? The sobs coming from him were enough to make tears start to fall from her own eyes. He was broken. The Dark Lord had well and truly destroyed Draco Malfoy.

 

Hermione didn’t say a word, but her eyes turned to Snape when he spoke. “Granger, I need you to take Draco somewhere safe,” he said, his voice demanding. His eyes flitted over her shoulder and he stepped forward. “I will be able to keep the Dark Lord at bay for as long as I can, but  _ take _ him. _ Anywhere _ away from here. Then get to the Order. Tell them that I’ll arrive as soon as I can.”

 

All she could do was nod, and Snape gave one last look at Draco before he turned and ran the last of the distance to the gates, and the sound of him Disapparating filled the air. The crack brought her to her senses that they had to  _ move _ . She ran forward to Draco, and as much as she wanted to throw her arms around him and hold him tightly, she knew that there was no time. There were Death Eaters in the castle that would quickly be making their way to the gates to Disapparate, along with the Order members who would most likely try to follow them and try and find Draco and Snape on the way.

 

“Draco, we have to go,” she said as she closed the distance between them. She grabbed his arm and tugged him to keep walking, but his feet wouldn’t move. “Draco,  _ please _ ,” she pleaded desperately. 

 

Tears still fell from his eyes and he shook his head. “Just go.”

 

“I’m  _ not _ leaving here without you, Draco, now  _ move _ !” She demanded and pulled his arm, jolting him into taking a step forward, but he stumbled.

 

“Don’t. You can’t put yourself in danger for me. Go, they’ll kill me, you can’t die too.”

 

Hermione stepped forward closer to him then and put her hands on his cheeks, grabbing his face tightly. “Listen to me, and listen to me right _ now _ . We’re leaving together and we’re going now, so you better move Draco or I swear to Merlin, I’ll--”

 

“Why?” He yelled at her and tried to pull back but she held firm. “You know what I did, you know who I am, I can’t--”

 

“Because I love you!” She yelled at him and shocked him into being quiet. It shocked her too, really. She hadn’t planned to say it… She hadn’t even known that she would  _ ever _ have said it. It had just come out, uncontrollably. Maybe she could blame it on the adrenaline, or the feeling of her body slowly starting to protest against everything she was doing. Maybe it was for fear that they may die at any second.

 

Whatever reason it was, she knew one thing for sure, and that was that she meant it. Though the thought of it hadn’t been on her mind at all, really, she knew it was real. She loved him. She loved him like she’d never thought she’d be capable of.

 

“Please,” she broke the silence between them, her voice quiet and shaking. “We need to go, Draco.”

 

And instead of protesting the movement, he grabbed her hand tightly and ran with her out of the entrance gate of Hogwarts; out of the magic that had been protecting them for so long. Out from the place that they’d once been able to call home, and into the unknown.

 

Hermione gripped both of his hands as tight as she could, and brought whatever strength and energy she had left, into thinking only of where they needed to Apparate.

 

* * *

 

The room was pitch black. She couldn’t see a stitch of light, and the only thing keeping her calm was the feeling of Draco’s hands clutching her own. Quickly, the sounds of their breathing escalated, and Hermione let go of one of his hands to properly hold her wand and cast a Lumos charm.

 

Her bedroom was exactly the way it had been left on September first the year before. Nothing had been changed or moved, the door was tightly shut, and Hermione knew only her mum would come in occasionally to give it a dust and a vacuum whilst she was away at school. When Hermione made to let go of Draco’s other hand so she could turn on the lamp on her bedside table, he held her tighter and looked her in the eye. She could clearly see how pale he was, but there was a smearing of her blood on his cheek from when she had held his cheeks while convincing him to come with her.

 

“We’re safe,” she whispered to him and brought her free hand up to his face. She brushed her thumb along the blood on his cheek to try and get it off, and swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Give me thirty seconds, okay?” She asked softly. “I need to ward the house so no-one can find us.” She could feel him trembling, but he nodded once and let her go. She moved quickly, walking to the window where the curtains were firmly drawn, and softly spoke the protective enchantments that she’d been learning for months now.  _ Protego Totalum, Salvio Hexia, Repello Muggletum...  _ All the enchantments slid off her tongue easily, thanks to memorising the many textbooks she’d poured over with Harry and Ron. With the room warded, she turned on the lamp on her side table and then looked at Draco who was still standing in the exact same spot, staring blankly at the floor. “Draco?” She said “Y-You stay here. I need to do the rest of the house, okay?”

 

She opened her bedroom door and before she stepped out into the hall, spoke “Homenum Revelio.” She knew that her parents were still on holiday in Italy and wouldn’t be returning until a few days before she’d meant to have been coming home from Hogwarts on the train. All that had changed now… She knew that she wouldn’t be returning to school. The spell revealed that there was no-one else in the house, just what she’d expected, but Mad-Eye Moody’s words rang loud in her ears:  _ Constant vigilance. _

 

She spoke the enchantments, speaking confidently and waving her wand in the exact movements she was meant to, and could feel the initial thrum of magic as the wards cemented themselves around her house. She walked downstairs, trying not to stumble or bump into anything in the dark, and finally finished the wards when she reached the kitchen. She stood in the middle of her kitchen and looked around. It had felt like so long since she’d been home, and felt unreal to be there without her parents,  _ and _ with Draco upstairs. She’d been so focused on warding the house that Draco being in her bedroom by himself had slipped her mind momentarily, and she quickly ran back up to him.

 

Her heart dropped when she saw him standing in exactly the same position she’d left him. She’d taken longer than thirty seconds --  _ well _ over a minute, really -- and she was starting to get a horrible headache from how strong the magic was she had just used. Hermione stepped forward and took his hand. “Draco,” she said and his eyes flickered up briefly to her. She almost couldn’t speak; the look in his eyes was like nothing she’d ever seen before. There was nothing there anymore. None of the familiar, playful spark he’d had so often around her. Not even the hint of emotion he always had when she’d seen him upset… There was nothing.

 

She raised her hand up to him but winced when her skin tugged. She’d forgotten about the slice through her forearm, and she dropped her hand; she didn’t know any healing spells, so would have to find some bandages. A thought came to mind at that, and with her uninjured arm, she squeezed Draco’s hand. “Let’s take a shower, Draco,” she said softly. The both of them were covered in, literal, blood, sweat and tears, along with a thin layering of dust from the ceiling collapse near the Astronomy Tower.

 

Draco made his first movement since they’d arrived, and nodded once, slowly. She stepped away, still holding his hand, and led him out of her bedroom and to the first door on the left and opened it up. The bathroom was freezing cold, and she quickly cast a warming charm and turned the light on. She winced at the brightness, and turning back to Draco, she lost her breath at the sight of how pale he  _ really _ looked in the proper light, and how much of a contrast her drying blood on his cheek was. She let go of his hand gently to turn the shower on and organise some towels for when they’d come out.

 

“You start getting undressed,” she said to him, trying to keep her voice steady. She was starting to realise the trembling of her hands as she made her way to the cabinet under the sink. She knew she had to try and keep as sane and calm as possible, for Draco’s sake. It would do him no good if she started to freak out the way she wanted to and the way her brain was screaming at her to do. She heard the rustle of him starting to remove his clothes, but she was focused on trying to find a bandage to wrap around her arm. Eventually, she pulled one out and left it on the counter while she undressed too.

 

There was nothing embarrassing about the situation, she wasn’t even  _ thinking _ of the fact that they would both soon be naked and in the shower together -- there was more important issues at hand. She started to strip off her clothes, trying and failing to avoid brushing against the cut on her arm. When she was naked, she plastered the bandage over her arm and used her wand to keep it in place and make sure it stayed dry whilst they were in the shower. She gathered up her and Draco’s clothes and threw them into the bath. She didn’t want to see them again, and would destroy them the first chance she got.

 

Draco was standing still, but his eyes had followed her movements around the room until she came to stand in front of him. “Let’s get in,” Hermione said and opened the shower door and waited for him to step forward. She noticed his trembling as he walked past her and into the steamy shower, and she followed suit and closed the door. It was too surreal, she thought, and images of what had occurred in the past hour flitted through her mind like a video on repeat. She hated it, and knew that whatever she had endured, Draco would have had it worse. She didn’t know what happened up on the Astronomy Tower, but from his reactions she knew that he’d seen something terrible.  _ Or done something _ , her mind added, but she quashed that thought and reached out to grab the shower gel from the shelf in the shower.

 

“You’re okay,” she said soothingly to him trying to continue to be the voice of reason in the messed up situation they’d been struck in. She put some soap on her hands and then ran it over his chest and over his shoulders. He stood as still as a statue as her hands moved over him, cleaning him of everything that had happened that night. She cleansed his face gently, and he’d closed his eyes at that point. She couldn’t tell that tears had started to fall from his eyes. She eyed the scars on his chest left from the Sectumsempra curse, and hated that this all had happened to him. He didn’t deserve  _ any _ of this.

 

Her soaped up hands moved down his arm, and she cleaned his skin and his hands, scrubbing at the dried blood on his palm from where they’d held hands before. When it was clean she moved to the other arm, but her hands stopped moving immediately when she saw it. On his left forearm, the Dark Mark writhed, inky black and demanding attention. She knew that he had it, ever since he’d shown her the cabinet in the Room of Requirement, but to see it in the flesh was a cruel and shocking reminder of the horrors he had been put through. She felt his arm tense and move to pull away from her, but she held his wrist tightly.

 

“Don’t,” she said firmly and looked him in the eye. “ _ This _ isn’t who you are,” she told him and then raised a hand to hold his jaw, keeping him facing her. “This doesn’t define you. It  _ never _ has. You don’t want this, I know that you don’t. I don’t  _ care _ about it,” her voice shook as she spoke, but to cement her point, she closed her hand over his forearm, the tattoo under her palm. She wasn’t disgusted. She wasn’t scared, or horrified. She was sad. Sad that Draco had to have lived with the brutal mark on his arm for so long, and follow the orders of its creator when he didn’t want to. Draco had been marked unwillingly, and she knew that he regretted ever thinking it was something to look up to. She wished that there was some way that she could take it from his arm, but knew realistically there wouldn’t be. Voldemort had wanted his Death Eaters to be loyal; to demand respect from the Mark. That couldn’t happen if the Mark was easy to be removed.

 

“But I let it happen,” Draco spoke; his first words since they had arrived in her house.

 

“No, you were forced,” Hermione told him and brushed her thumb across the Mark. The skin was slightly raised at the edges of the tattoo. It felt so much like the scars on his chest from the Sectumsempra curse.

 

“In the past I thought it was the greatest thing to be,” he said, looking down at their feet.

 

Hermione held his chin with her thumb and forefinger and made him look at her. “In the  _ past _ , you said it yourself,” she said. “You know better now. You know differently, and you’ve made all the right choices here, Draco. I can help you. The Order can help you.”

 

He was quiet again and after a minute or so, he stood up a little straighter. “I want out of the shower now,” he said and Hermione turned the tap off. They exited the shower and she used her wand to dry them both as it was so much quicker, then transfigured two towels into a plain white t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms respectively and gave them to Draco. She wrapped the other towel around her body. “You get dressed then come to my room. The best thing we can do right now is sleep,” she told him, and stood up on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek before she left the bathroom to go back to her bedroom.

 

Her head was pounding now from a combination of being physically worn-out, mentally exhausted from casting the wards and then dealing with the situations of that night, and trying desperately to hold back from crying. The only thing she could do was distract herself, and opened up her wardrobe to try and find something she could change into. She made a point to think only of her pyjamas just then, over thinking everything -- would they be warm enough? Were they soft enough? --  _ just _ so she could waste time thinking about something else other than how her life had just flipped on its head in a matter of hours. She settled on an old grey top that was two sizes too big for her, and some warm pyjama shorts, and by the time she was dressed, Draco still hadn’t returned to her room.

 

She only waited ten seconds before heading back to the bathroom, too worried to wait for him to take his time. The door wasn’t closed over, so when she reached the threshold she clearly saw him with his hands braced either side of the sink, head ducked down as he cried silently, his shoulders heaving. Hermione tapped her fingers on the door a few times just so he knew she was there before she entered and put her arm around his shoulder. He felt warmer with the clothes on now, but he was still trembling -- she knew it had nothing to do with the cold.

 

After she had led him to her bedroom, he pushed away from her and stalked to the middle of the room, his hands coming up to grab his hair tightly. “I can’t make it stop,” he muttered and pulled at his hair in a way that Hermione stepped forward to try and pull his hands away.

 

“Make what stop?” She asked, her own anxiety rising once more with every passing second.

 

“My mind!” He yelled, and furiously wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “It won’t stop!” His voice grew louder. “I keep seeing it, it won’t stop, Hermione!” His shouts turned desperate and she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what he’d seen on the Tower, but knew that from his reaction, it wasn’t good in the slightest. The Dark Mark above the grounds was proof enough that something evil had occurred.

 

“It’s okay, we’ll make it stop,” Hermione tried to assure him, and touched his arm.

 

“It can’t!” He shouted, moving away from her touch to pace across the room. “I can’t stop seeing it. My mind won’t shut up, I can’t... _ deal _ with this.” His hands left his hair, and curled into fists and she could see his knuckles turning white with the sheer force he was using. “ _ Make it stop _ !” He screamed, turning to look at her and her stomach dropped from the look in his eyes.

 

She’d never seen a human being with quite a look like that before. It was beyond terror. It was beyond control. This wasn’t Draco. Whatever he was seeing was affecting him in a way he didn’t deserve to be subjected to.

 

“I’ll make it stop, Draco, please believe me,” she reasoned, trying to hold back her own tears when he broke into sobs. She’d thought she’d seen his heartbreak before; thought she  _ knew _ what it was like to see him broken and crying. But this was different. This was on a whole other level of hysterics and she didn’t know how to stop it.

 

Her own panic started to rise as nothing came to mind of what she could say to help him. He was back to pacing, and looking around for something, and it stumped her to what it was until she realised. He was looking for his wand. She stepped forward quickly and took hold of his forearms, standing in front of him.

 

“Draco, look here,” she demanded, her voice quivering as she  _ just _ couldn’t hold herself together. “Look!” She said louder, and raised her hands to his cheek and held his face tightly until his eyes made contact with hers. “It will be okay, I promise you --  _ No _ , Draco, I promise you!” She had to interrupt him when he tried to speak. “Come with me,” she pleaded and took his hands again and walked backwards to her bed. “Come on, you need to lie down Draco, you’re scaring me.”

 

She pulled the covers back with one hand and then struggled to reason with him for another minute or so until he finally sat down. “They’re going to be killed,” he cried, grabbing at her waist.

 

She stood between his legs and the start of her tears slipped from her eyes.  _ I can’t do this, I don’t know what to do _ , she thought, over and over and  _ over _ . “Who? What do you mean?”

 

“My parents. He’s going to kill them because of me. I didn’t do my task, I didn’t… They’re going to die. He’ll torture them. This is my fault!” He weeped and she pulled him into a hug, not knowing what else to do. She didn’t want him to get up and pace again because she didn’t trust him not to do anything rash. If she held him, she could try and keep him at bay until he started thinking normally again; until he could control himself.

 

“They won’t die,” Hermione said, but didn’t once think about saying ‘I promise’. She didn’t know what would happen to Draco’s parents, but she could only hope that somehow Snape had managed to find Narcissa Malfoy before Voldemort did. Surely the Potions Master had enough decency in him to tell the mother of the boy he’d been trying to help all year.

 

Draco was still crying into her top, his head against her stomach and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist since she was still standing. She ran her fingers through his hair, and tried to think of more to say to him, but… nothing came. She’d never seen someone break down in this way before. She’d seen some of Harry’s outbursts but never  _ ever _ to this extreme. What was she meant to do?

 

She didn’t know how long she stood between his legs, letting him cry into her front. She didn’t care if it had only been two minutes, half an hour or longer, all she cared about was being there for Draco. His cries faded after a while, replacing themselves with staggered breathing. He gripped her top tightly as his breathing quicked until she realised it was  _ too _ fast.

 

“Draco, hey, slow down,” she said quickly, and crouched down to be eye-level with him. “Breathe, you need to breathe, Draco, nice and slow.” His eyes were still darting everywhere, and he looked beyond terrified. “Slowly, okay?” She pleaded with him. She counted aloud with him, telling him to breathe in and then out, figuring that it was the best she could do to calm him.

 

She forced him to look her in the eyes as he breathed, shakily and irregularly for the first minute until he started to take control of himself. He deepened his breaths in, holding them for a few seconds when she told him too, then let them out in a long rush, and she held his hands tightly.

 

“You’re okay,” she kept saying repeatedly, trying her hardest to soothe him into relaxing the best he could. “It’s just us here. We’re safe, I promise.”

 

Ten minutes had passed before Draco’s breathing returned to completely normal, and he lifted his hand up to furiously wipe away the tears on his cheeks. He looked at her and then his shoulders sagged, and he gripped her hand tightly. “Please can we sleep,” he spoke quietly, his voice rasping. “I can’t be awake anymore.”

 

She nodded and stood up from where she was crouched, and pulled back the covers of her bed enough for him to get under. She knew why he wanted to sleep; he was beyond exhausted physically, mentally  _ and _ emotionally, and she knew that sometimes sleep was the best option, just to switch things off for a while. Once Draco was lying under the covers, she lay herself next to him.

 

Hermione pulled the blanket over the both of them and once they were covered, she felt Draco’s hands instantly seek out her waist to draw her as close as he could. She put her own arm around his waist and pressed her forehead to his. 

 

“We’re in this together,” she whispered to him, so relieved that he had come down from the hysterics and panic he’d just been subjected to. “When we find the Order, we’re going to make sure your parents are safe, and that _ you’re _ safe,” she told him.

 

Draco nodded, shutting his eyes briefly. He was quiet for a long time, and she watched as his eyes closed once more and stayed shut. She didn’t dare close her eyes though. She was too taut with worry and fear, and even though she had her wand tucked firmly under her pillow, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She watched his face as the lines of terror and stress that had been etched on it all evening disappeared as he started to succumb to sleep. She would have jumped when he spoke had she not saw his eyelids flutter slightly and his lips part beforehand. “Thank you for keeping your promise,” he whispered, and opened his eyes to look at her.

 

“There was never a moment that I would have broken it,” she assured him and tilted her head forward a bit to kiss his nose.

 

“I love you too, you know,” he said after a moment’s pause. “I didn’t get to say it back at Hogwarts… But I do.”

 

Her breath hitched in her throat as  _ something _ changed within her upon hearing that. They had both gone through so much together, and after coming to the conclusion that  _ yes _ , she did love him, it felt incredible for him to say it back to her. Her fingers curled into the t-shirt he was wearing, and she hugged him tightly, her face pressing into his chest.

 

“We’ve got each other,” she murmured into his shirt.

 

She felt him press his lips to the top of her head. “We do.”

 

* * *

 

Whenever Hermione was in her family home, for as long as she could remember, her mother always turned the radio on in the mornings. Hermione had been told that it had been more of a comfort than anything, for when her mother had to stay home looking after her as a baby while her father was at work. Having the voices from the radio in the house made it less lonely. And the tradition kept. It kept while Hermione was a toddler, dancing around in the kitchen with her parents clapping and laughing with grins on her face; it kept while Hermione was in primary school, where she’d eat her breakfast and most likely be reading while doing so, listening to the songs on the radio and her mother singing along softly as she cleaned up. During the holidays when she was home from Hogwarts, Hermione would come downstairs after sleeping in, and find her father sitting at the table, nodding along to the morning news coming from the wireless, and when her parents left for work, she would always change the channel to listen to all the music she’d missed out on while being away at school.

 

Now, though, was the first time she’d been in the kitchen without the noise of the radio in the background. She was beyond exhausted as she stood in the middle of the room, the tiled floor chilling her toes. The blinds were down, but a minimal amount of sunshine was peeking through, giving the room a soft light. Nothing about this was right to her; nothing felt good. She hadn’t slept a wink over the past few hours since she and Draco finally got into her bed at around two in the morning. Her mind had been whirring the entire time, her body still on overdrive from the huge amount of adrenaline she’d been running on since Harry had gotten to her and Ron in the common room the day before. It was hard to believe it had happened only yesterday…

 

Not only that, but she had been too worried over Draco to take her eyes off of him. He’d fallen asleep quickly, but she didn’t blame him in the slightest. She welcomed it. She didn’t know when the last time he had slept was, and he was more mentally exhausted than anyone else, she knew. His grief, sobs, and subsequent breakdown after their shower had drained him, and she was glad he could sleep to escape the real world for a few hours. His brain hadn’t wanted that, though, as several times through the night, he had started muttering in his sleep, sometimes loudly and sometimes he said things she could understand; words like ‘no’, or ‘please’. He started to tense too, and every time she heard his breathing quicken, she was quick to hold him tightly and murmur soothingly to calm him, even though he was still asleep.

 

According to the clock on her side table, it had been around six in the morning when she’d started to feel her eyes droop, but it hadn’t lasted long. She was roughly jerked awake when Draco kicked out in his sleep and let out a yell, trying to sit up in bed. The shock woke her up, heart pounding, and she struggled to get the still unconscious Draco lying back down with his head on the pillow. Eventually, she’d managed, and he was back to sleeping normally. When she looked at the clock again, it had read quarter past six.

 

She’d ended up waiting until it was half seven before she gently extracted herself from Draco’s arms in bed. He hadn’t woken or protested, and in the past hour hadn’t slept-talked or tried to move again, giving her good reason to believe he was in enough of a deep sleep that she could leave the bedroom. She’d taken another shower to warm her, and then gone downstairs, to where she was at present, standing in the middle of the kitchen.

 

It was hard for Hermione to process, being there in her own home, with her parents in another country and Draco Malfoy asleep in her bed. She thought back to the night before, and the battle that had ensued between the Dark Side and the Light, and a feeling of dread hit her when she realised she didn’t know if there had been any casualties. She hadn’t seen anyone fall to the ground, but she remembered the ferociousness of the Death Eater’s attacks, and how relentless they had been. Looking down at the bandage still wrapped tightly around her forearm, she hoped that it had been the worst injury sustained in the Order from that night.

 

She knew that it would do no good dwelling over what happened, reasoning that she needed to be focusing all of her energy on figuring out a way for her and Draco to leave safely to get to Grimmauld Place or The Burrow; anywhere that there was an Order member. The thought of having to put so much planning into place made her head start to hurt, and she decided that maybe having breakfast would be the best way to start thinking straight… To trick her brain into thinking everything was okay.

 

The next ten minutes were sat in silence at the round dining table as she spooned up her Cheerios and tried not to think of the recent events. She tried to imagine what her parents were up to in Italy, what sights they had seen, what food they had eaten. The momentary quiet in her mind, regaining the hope that maybe it had all been a dream, shattered into a million pieces when she heard a loud shout from upstairs. Her spoon clattered into her bowl as she stood up and ran from the kitchen, pulling her wand from her waistband as she did so. There were loud thumps coming from her room and she made it up the stairs, breathless, and stopped in her doorway.

 

Draco stood in the middle of her room, disheveled, t-shirt twisted, and a wild look in his eyes. His fists were curled at his sides as he looked around the room before his eyes zoned in on her and he stepped forward. Her body tensed in an automatic reaction, but she quickly relaxed when he closed the distance between them and pulled her tightly into a hug.

 

“Draco, what happened?” She asked, her voice muffled against his chest. She could feel him trembling, and his fingers curled tightly into her top as he held her even closer still.

 

“Nightmare,” he answered, his voice shaky. “I was dreaming of what happened last night, and when I woke up you were gone… I thought they’d taken you, or--”

 

“It’s okay,” she assured him as she could sense him getting worked up again. She managed to pull back from his tight hold enough to look up at him. “I’m safe.  _ We’re _ safe here,” she said. “I’m sorry, I went downstairs to eat, I should have stayed with you,” she apologised, feeling horrible that she’d even thought he’d sleep peacefully after what he’d endured.

 

“Don’t,” he shook his head and put his hand on her cheek, his thumb along her jaw bone. “Don’t apologise.”

 

She looked up at him and a few moments passed before she nodded once. “Do you want to use the bathroom? I can make you some cereal while you do. You should eat something,” she suggested.

 

He nodded and slowly let go of her. “Okay,” he said, and moved past her to go to the bathroom where he shut the door. She sighed and eyed the closed door. Right then, she really didn’t know how they were going to get through this mess.

 

* * *

 

Hermione had just put the milk carton back in the fridge when Draco walked into kitchen. He was wearing the simple clothes she’d transfigured for him the night before and his hair was mussed in all directions, slightly damp with some strands sticking to his forehead. While he didn’t look as exhausted as he had the night before, his eyes were still dull and lifeless and made her so frustrated that she couldn’t think of anything to do to help him.

 

“Here you go,” she said softly and handed him the generously-sized bowl of Cheerios she’d made for him.

 

He took it and looked down at the contents and raised an eyebrow. “What are these?” He asked.

 

The corner of her lips twitched up at his genuine confusion, causing him to give a hint of a smile too. “Cheerios. It’s my favourite cereal,” she answered and went to sit at the table and he followed a second or two after her.

 

Before Draco had come downstairs, Hermione had found an old newspaper, dating from two weeks ago, and had started to read it, and resumed doing so when they both fell into silence at the table; her reading, and him eating. After a few minutes, he’d asked for more which she’d happily gave him, and then their silence resumed.

 

“So this is what a Muggle home looks like,” he murmured after another five minutes had passed and she looked up from the newspaper to see him looking around.

 

“Mostly,” she nodded. “Some are smaller, some are bigger.”

 

He furrowed his brows. “Some are  _ smaller _ ?” He asked.

 

She smiled, forgetting that the house he had grown up in was most likely bigger than some hotels she’d visited. “Not everyone can afford grand houses,” she answered simply. “It took my parents many years to just pay off this house. And it’s seen to be one of the more larger houses in the area.”

 

“Really?” He asked and looked around again, through the archway that lead into the cosy living room. “Can you show me?” He asked. “The other houses?”

 

She bit her bottom lip, about to tell him that it would be unsafe for them to leave the house, but came up with another idea. She stood up from the table and walked into the living room with him following, and stopped at the window that looked out onto the street. “I don’t want to open the curtain all the way,” she told him. “And not for very long either…”

 

He nodded in understanding, and she carefully pulled back to curtain to make the slightest gap, big enough for him to look out onto the street. His intake of breath was all the confirmation she needed that he was amazed by what he saw. He pulled back quickly after a few moments and her heart raced as she looked outside, not knowing what had caused his reaction, but she settled when she realised it had just been a car driving by. “What  _ was _ that?” He asked her, his eyes wide as he looked at her.

 

“It’s called a car,” she explained. “It’s one of the modes of transport that Muggles use.”

 

He glanced back out the window and then back to her. “I guess that makes sense, since I know they can’t fly brooms. I never really thought Muggles would need things to get around in. Or I would just think it would be something like the carriages that take us to Hogwarts.”

 

She smiled and shook her head. “Well, Muggles  _ used _ to use carriages that horses would pull around. But that was before cars were invented, over one hundred years ago. Horses and carriages are sometimes used nowadays, but more for certain events, not normal travel.”

 

His brows had furrowed all over again and he looked out the window once more. “I can’t wrap my head around that…” He muttered, and she stayed standing back, letting him observe and learn.

 

“It’s a lot to take in,” she agreed, and stayed put warily by his side. She let him look for a few minutes more before placing her hand on his back. “Maybe we should close the curtains now,” she said. “Just in case…” She added, trailing off.

 

Draco nodded and took a step back, pulling the curtains firmly closed. “That was...absurd,” he said with a small smile as he looked at her. She smiled back at him, but it faltered when she watched his gaze drift to over her shoulder, and his brows furrowed as his eyes squinted slightly. “What is  _ that _ ?” He questioned.

 

She turned around and let out a laugh without meaning to.

 

He’d spotted the television.

 

* * *

 

The day passed by at a crawling pace. After his look out the window, Draco had wanted to know more about different Muggle houses and more about the cars he’d seen on the street and the television sitting in the living room. She’d tried her hardest to explain the best she could, but found it difficult -- more so to explain the cars -- as she’d never really found an interest in such subjects enough to learn the ins-and-outs about them, finding them to simply be mundane things of her everyday life when she was at home in the Muggle world.

 

It was well past lunch time and the sun was starting to set outside, and they were both sitting at the dining room table once more, both with drinks, him a mug of coffee, and her a cup of tea. “I understand why you learnt so much about the Wizarding world when you found out you were a witch,” Draco said to her. “I couldn’t stop asking you questions about the Muggle world before…”

 

“I was a bit more obsessive than normal, though,” she said with a small smile. “Witches and wizards had all been a fairytale to me until I found out about Hogwarts, so it was a bit surreal, and of course I wanted to learn the  _ facts _ , not what I’d learnt in picture books growing up.”

 

“I understand, though,” he said, his voice quieter, and he averted his eyes from her and looked down at the table.

 

She took it as her cue that he didn’t want to speak anymore on that topic, and she had glanced around the room when her eye caught sight of the calendar hanging from its hook on the wall near the fridge. The picture for the month of June was a beautiful sunset, as her mum always liked to get sunset-themed calendars from the post office every year. Hermione smiled and then her eyes dipped down to the square dates below, which made her realise that she didn’t know what date it was. Everything had blurred into one that it had felt like a week had passed rather than only one day, but when her eyes were drawn to the fifth square on the calendar, she inhaled sharply.

 

“Draco, it’s your birthday,” she said, whipping her head around to look at him.

 

He glanced up from his mug and then shrugged one shoulder. “I forgot,” he mumbled, but from the expression on his face, Hermione highly doubted that he was speaking the truth.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asked softly and reached out her hand to brush her fingers along the back of his knuckles.

 

He shrugged once more. “I don’t want to be reminded. Birthdays are meant to be happy days. This isn’t.”

 

She let out a soft breath and then took his hand properly. “I know these last few days aren’t anything that we should have experienced. Most of all you. But it’s your birthday,” she gave him a soft smile. “It’s meant to be a happy day.”

 

“It’s not,” he brushed her off and moved the mug towards him with both hands, leaving her hand to drop onto the table. “I knew from the moment I got my Mark that nothing would be the same anymore, and that includes my birthday,” he said bitterly. “I can’t be celebrated and this day can’t be celebrated.”

 

Hermione stood up from her chair and walked around to his side. “Draco, it will be a good way to forget for just a moment…”

 

“I can’t forget!” He snapped, pushing his chair back to stand up, placing himself at a height advantage to her. “I want to forget what happened so badly, but it’s still there in my mind,  _ over _ and  _ over _ again, don’t you get it?”

 

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as she realised she’d triggered his anger, and she tried to place her hand on his arm but he pulled back. “Yes, but--”

 

“But nothing! There’s  _ nothing _ to be happy about.  _ Nothing _ , Hermione, no matter what you think,” he snapped once more and turned away from her and walked into the living room, leaving her standing by herself, slightly shell-shocked from his quick change in mood.

 

Even though she wanted to follow him, she understood that he needed his space. He wouldn’t have moved away from her and went to a different room if he had wanted her to still be there to comfort him. While it hurt to think that she’d caused his spike in anger and that he’d left the kitchen to get away from her, she understood that he had every right to be upset and angry over the situation.

 

He was Draco Malfoy, after all. The boy who in previous years at Hogwarts liked to make it  _ fully _ known that it was his birthday when the time rolled around. The boy who would get mountains of presents from his housemates at the breakfast table in the Great Hall, and receive even more presents and sweets from his parents; all of which he would show off smugly. Because in those situations, he’d been in control. And even though now he was a different person, and no longer the arrogant show-off he had been, he still hated not being in control. This whole school year he hadn’t been in control, and the night before just proved how fragile he was to the entire situation. Hermione knew it was best to let him recover in his own way in the living room rather than her going in there to try and talk to him.

 

Draco had only been in the other room for fifteen minutes before he softly said her name. She stood from the dining table and looked into the living room to see him sitting on the couch, eyes rimmed red. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, causing her to cross the room quickly to stand in front of him.

 

“You don’t need to be,” she shook her head and crouched down, placing her hands on his knees. “It was insensitive of me, I shouldn’t have tried to push it after what happened.”

 

He nodded and looked at her hands and then up to her face. “I should probably let you know what actually happened last night,” he spoke, his voice almost a whisper.

 

“No,” she said firmly, and reached for his hand to hold. “We don’t need any more darkness on this day. I don’t want you reliving what you went through, not today.”

 

His head ducked again and he let out a shaky sigh. “You’re going to hate me when I tell you,” he murmured.

 

“No I’m not,” she said assuredly. “How many times do I have to tell you?” She asked, giving him a small smile. She placed her hand on his cheek and made him look at her. “You’re stuck with me now, it’s too late for anything else.” 

 

That seemed to lift the tension, and she felt a swell of pride when his lips quirked upwards and he lifted his own hand up to cover hers.

 

* * *

 

“Are you asleep?”

 

They’d been lying in bed for half an hour together in silence by the time Draco’s words cut through the quiet. Hermione’s arm was wrapped around his waist and her leg hooked over his, and one of his arms was under her neck while the other wrapped around her middle. They were as close as they could be, and her head had been tucked against his chest until his words made her look up. Draco’s brief blow-up had been hours ago then, and after she’d managed to cook up a lousy dinner of quick-noodles, they’d both decided that going to bed would be the only logical thing to do, to try and sleep.

 

“No,” she admitted in a whisper. “I’m not tired.”

 

“Me neither,” he responded, and lifted his hand from her hip and moved it up to her cheek. “I have too many thoughts,” he said.

 

She turned her head slightly to press her lips to the tip of his thumb, and then he was back to stroking her jaw with it. Her nose was brushing against his chin, and she was rather taken aback when he dipped his head and pressed their lips together. They hadn’t really kissed properly since arriving at her parents’ home for no reason other than not feeling the urge to. Too much had been on their minds, that kissing wasn’t the action they jumped to when there was nothing to do; the opposite of what it had been like when they were in Hogwarts.

 

She enjoyed the feeling of his lips then, though. It felt familiar, warm...like home. Over the past few months, he had become her home and her rock, and she could tell from the fierceness that he was beginning to kiss her with, that he felt the same way. Her hand came from under the covers to twine her fingers in his hair, trying to pull him closer to her if that was possible.

 

What time had passed, she didn’t know, but at one point, Draco started to move. The rustling of the bed covers joined the only sound of their breathing in the room, and he managed to roll her onto her back and situate himself over the top of her. Their chests pressed together, and Hermione parted their lips as she rest her head back on the pillow and looked up at him, panting slightly from how long they’d been kissing. They didn’t break eye-contact, but Hermione’s eyelids fluttered involuntarily when he pressed his hips against hers and let her feel every part of him.

 

She wasn’t embarrassed to be with Draco in this way, anymore, not like she had been on the first instances where he’d had his hands under her top or skirt, or with her hand in his trousers, but there was something about  _ this _ moment that was different. She knew that she wanted to do this; she had known that it would eventually have happened between them. But thinking about it and actually being in the moment were two completely different things.

 

She loved him, and he loved her, that was what the both of them knew. She knew that she could trust him. He was just as new to this all as she was. In a bold move, Hermione raised one leg under the covers to hook over the back of his thighs to pull him closer, and was rewarded when he dropped his forehead to her shoulder and moaned against her skin.

 

“Are you sure?” He breathed a few seconds later, and lifted his head to look her in the eye.

 

Hermione nodded instantly. She wouldn’t do any of this if she wasn’t comfortable. She  _ wanted  _ Draco, in every sense of the word. She wanted for them to have this moment together, amidst a terrible time, but full of love only for each other. “I’m sure,” she said, giving him verbal consent as well, and lowered her hand to his neck. “I love you,” she whispered, the words rolling off her tongue easily and sending shivers down her spine. She  _ loved _ someone.

 

“I love you too,” Draco responded immediately, and pressed a kiss to her collarbone before he knelt up, the covers falling off his back. She wondered what he was doing until his hands came to the hem of his t-shirt to pull it up and off, throwing it off the side of her bed. Her top was next and she smiled as he helped her take it off and it joined his on the floor. Her nipples had hardened from the chill in the air and the anticipation over what would be happening between them.

 

Her cheeks flushed red when he ducked his head down and pressed an open mouthed kiss to the bottom of her stomach, just along the hem of her pyjama shorts before he pulled them off and dropped them to the floor. She keened softly when his hand moved between her thighs and he ran his fingers up the middle of her underwear before hooking his thumbs in the waistband to pull them off. She’d never been this completely bare to him before, and despite her confidence in the situation, the way his eyes roved over her, taking in  _ every inch _ made her cheeks burn even more so than before.

 

Draco seemed to jolt out of his daze when Hermione placed her hands on the waistband of his tracksuit pants and pushed. It would have been much easier had she transfigured him a pair of boxers after their shower the night before, as the pants were proving difficult to push off in any dignified manner. “Fucking hell…” He muttered as he tried to help, pushing the waistband down, but getting the pants off his legs was a whole other ordeal. “Fuck… I’m sorry, Hermione,” he apologised as he struggled, his cheeks dashed red in embarrassment but she couldn’t help but smile at him when he eventually got out of the offending garment and looked back at her. She laughed softly and a second or two passed before he let out a chuckle of his own, realising how silly it had all just been.

 

Their eyes met, and her laughter calmed down to a cease, and she smiled up at him. His eyes had darkened steadily, and she could just see the flush on his cheeks, and she never wanted to leave this moment. Gone was the thoughts of the night before, gone was the stress and anxiety over what would happen next. A gasp escaped her lips when he reached his hand between her legs where she was already slick from how long they’d been kissing beforehand. She crooked her leg up after some teasing and rubbing, when he slipped a finger inside her and dipped his head down to kiss her properly.

 

She twined her fingers through his hair, kissing him back for all she was worth. Her hips raised from the bed in time with the movement of his finger, and soon added a second. They’d done this a few times previously in their Room, but never _ this _ bare; never  _ this _ close to each other, their bodies pressed tightly together, him pressing his hardness against his thigh because he just couldn’t stop his own movement.

 

Every minute was bliss, and her hands ran up and down from his hair to his shoulders, and she rolled her hips forcefully when his thumb started to brush the side of her clit. “Now, Draco,” she breathed.

 

He was panting hard against her cheek and let out a low moan when her hand reached down to take a hold of him. She almost let go of him when he moved his mouth to hers, kissing her clumsily, impatiently, but perfectly. “I’ll...go slow,” he said quietly, reaching down to take a hold of himself. The head brushed against her clit as he moved and her breath came out in a shudder, and she held onto his shoulders when he slowly pushed in.

 

She sucked in a breath and her eyes closed for a brief second as she was overcome with the feeling. It didn’t so much hurt as much as it felt  _ different _ . He filled her completely and she clenched her muscles, which caused him to release a harsh breath against her shoulder.

  
“Hermione…” He breathed, his fingers curling around her shoulder. “This feels…” He trailed off when she turned her head to kiss the side of his head, and he moved so their lips met.

 

Her heart was thundering, blood rushing, and the strange initial feeling, of almost uncomfortableness, was slowly disappearing, and she raised her hips from the bed in the slightest motion. He groaned against her lips and pulled himself out almost all of the way before pushing in again, slowly. She let out a breathy moan and raised her other leg up which caused him to push deeper again, and her head tilted back on the pillow as his name left her in a rush.

 

He kept up his slow movements until she pressed her hand on his lower back to urge him on. “More,” she breathed in his ear, and he didn’t need to be told twice. He sped up his movements, her moans seeming to urge him on, and his hand came up to her breast, leaving her grasping at his arms.

 

Draco’s breathing staggered and his hand dropped from her breast to grab the covers tightly in his fist, and their chests pressed together. “Hermione, I’m...going to…”

 

Tension had been building in her lower stomach as the time had worn on, but she knew she wasn’t close to finishing, not like this, not like he was. “T-Touch me,” she breathed and rolled her hips up making him moan the loudest yet. She pushed his hand until he moved it between them, and she threw her head back when he brushed against her clit,  _ over _ and  _ over _ , not letting up as he thrust quicker still.

 

He came before she did, with a long moan, his lips against her neck as the movement of his hips slowed. She wasn’t angry, since she knew it was only to be expected with it being the first time for the both of them. Hermione wrapped her arms around him and just when she went to let her legs rest back down on the bed instead of bent up, Draco lifted his head from her neck. “You didn’t finish,” he said, still out of breath.

 

She’d tried to say ‘it’s fine’, and that surely they’d be able to do it another time, but as she went to brush back his hair from his slightly sweaty forehead, he hooked one arm under her knee and the other went between them. He was still inside her, and maybe that’s what made it feel that much more incredible when he brushed his thumb over her clit. She was sensitive, and her fingers curled tightly into the sheets the longer he touched her. When he started to kiss her neck and suck gently on her skin as he swiped circles around her clit, she tensed up, and one hand left the sheets to grab at his neck. She came with a shuddering breath and gasping moan, and he continued to touch her as she rode it out, running his fingers over her, kissing down to the tops of her breasts; enhancing  _ every single _ feeling she was experiencing.

 

She didn’t know how long her eyes had been closed, or her fingernails had been gripping into the back of Draco’s neck, but she couldn’t care less about time at that moment. She wanted to stay there forever. When she eventually opened her eyes again, he was looking at her; lips swollen, hair a mess, pupils dilated and cheeks flushed. When he pulled himself out, she held her breath at the feeling of emptiness, and then the wetness between her leg. He collapsed by her side, pulling the covers tightly over their shoulders. Her bones were so weak, she didn’t think she’d be able to move even if she wanted to.

 

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Draco said, and she turned her head and her heart skipped a beat when she saw what she’d been missing for so long. That goofy smile on his face as he stared at her, his eyes full of  _ life _ once more. She knew that when they had each other, they’d always be able to recover, and she’d be forever grateful for that fact.


	32. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me; thanks for your patience these past two weeks. Real life is a pain in the ass sometimes, but cannot be ignored unfortunately. 
> 
> Please make sure to follow us on tumblr (avdubs and hexrmionegranger) for updates! In instances like these past two weeks, where we've uploaded late, we can only make announcements like that through tumblr. 
> 
> We hope you enjoy and as always, thanks for reading and commenting!

Hermione woke to a loud knocking on the front door the next morning. Her eyes snapped open, her heart already pounding in her chest. It was just barely dawn, and Draco was lying awake next to her, his eyes wide with fear. She put a finger to her lips, reached under pillow for her wand and slipped out of bed. With her slippers on and her wand held out in front of her, she whispered to Draco, “I’ll be right back.” 

 

“Don’t be daft,” he said with a roll of his eyes as he got out of bed. “I’m coming with you.” 

 

“No,” she hissed, opening her bedroom door and peering out into the hall. The person knocked again. “You need to stay hidden, remember?” 

 

She heard him grumble something under his breath before he followed her out to the top landing. “You can’t see me from here,” he reasoned when she glared at him. 

 

“Fine,” she said as she took a step down the stairs. “But no further than that.” 

 

As she got to the door, whoever was on the other side knocked again. Hermione peered through the peephole, only to see a woman with dark purple hair tapping her foot impatiently against the ground. She let out a sigh of relief before undoing the lock. It was only Tonks. When she opened the door, Tonks jumped before smiling widely and stepping over the threshold. “I thought you’d never answer,” she said. 

 

Hermione shut the door quickly and locked it again. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think it would be someone from the Order.” 

 

“That’s actually why I’m here,” Tonks said as Hermione guided her to the kitchen. “There’s about four of us, me included, that are here to keep watch on your place.” 

 

“Really?” she asked, feeling relief wash over her. She got out two glasses but Tonks shook her head no, so Hermione put one back and poured herself a glass of water. “Thank Merlin for that.”

 

There was a pause and then Tonks was standing beside her, leaning against the counter just as she was. “So how he is? Draco?” she asked in a low voice.

 

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly,” she said, drawing out a breath. “We haven’t really talked all that much… I mean we have a bit, but...I just don’t know Tonks.” 

 

She felt her shoulders sag and the sadness she had been fighting off take over. Draco had been quiet ever since his breakdown two nights ago, and she suspected he was embarrassed by it. She hadn’t dared to bring up that night on the Tower, and instead let him be the one to bring it up if he wanted to talk about it, except he hadn’t brought it up once. Whenever she asked him if he was alright, all he would say is, “I’m fine,” before returning to whatever it was he was doing at the time. 

 

“Well how are  _ you  _ doing?” the older witch asked, giving Hermione a pointed stare. 

 

“I’m…” She paused, not knowing how to describe how she felt. “Scared…” 

 

Tonks nodded solemnly. “I don’t blame you,” she said quietly, crossing her arms across her middle. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t, actually.” 

 

Hermione didn’t quite know what to say, so they both stood in silence in her kitchen. She gulped down her water for something to do and tried one more time to offer Tonks a glass, but she refused. “I actually should get going,” she said, glancing towards the front door. “We’ll be keeping good watch.” 

 

Tonks left with a wave and headed for the front door. Hermione hurried after her to lock the door as soon as it shut. She looked up to see Draco peeking around the corner. She motioned for him to come down. “Breakfast?” she asked when he got to the bottom of the stairs. 

 

She fixed him a bowl of cereal like she had the previous morning, except today, she turned on the radio. It was the morning news broadcast, but the familiar voices brought a sense of calming to Hermione as she ate. “What is that?” Draco asked, pausing in his eating to stare at the radio on the counter. 

 

The corners of her lips flickered upwards; ever since yesterday, he’d been asking her left and right what everything was, never having been in a Muggle home before. Of course he knew things like a toilet and a bathtub, but he’d been amazed when she’d shown him how light switches worked. “That’s a radio,” she said after swallowing her cereal. “Mum and dad always had this on in the mornings when I was growing up.” 

 

“It was always quiet around the Manor,” Draco mumbled, his eyes cast down into his bowl. Hermione didn’t quite know what to say. She’d grown up dancing around her kitchen, listening to the news and singing along horribly while she and her mum made cookies. She stood up and took her bowl to the sink, then stopped at the radio and fiddled with the knob until it settled a slow paced song. When she walked back to the table, she saw Draco looking at her in confusion. She stood in front of him with her hand out for him to take, which he then took after she offered him a smile. 

 

She led him to the middle of the floor and wrapped her arms around his neck. Taking the hint, he wrapped his arms around her waist. Neither of them said anything as they swayed back and forth, slowly rotating at they did so. She could feel his steady heartbeat with her head resting against his chest and she allowed her eyes to drift shut briefly. Draco was rubbing his hand up and down her back and kissed the top of her head every so often. The song seemed to last forever, not that Hermione minded of course. If she and Draco could stay like this forever, trapped in a song with the early morning sunlight cast over them, perpetually swaying in the middle of her kitchen, well that didn’t sound so terrible at all. 

 

* * *

 

They’d showered together after the song ended and she took her time washing his hair, running her fingers through the wet strands repeatedly. She’d massaged his scalp and neck, earning herself a few soft moans from his lips. Once they were clean and dressed, Hermione asked Draco what he wanted to do and when he shrugged and said that he didn’t know. She suggested they watch a movie and Draco, of course, didn’t know what she was talking about but waited patiently in the kitchen as she fixed them some snacks. They settled themselves on the couch after she popped in a video. The movie had just started to play when Hermione heard a knock at the door. She told Draco to stay where he was, since the living room was out of sight of the front door. With her wand gripped in her hand, she went to the front door, wondering who it could be this time. Someone hadn’t slipped their way past the aurors had they? 

 

A glance out the peephole told her it was Tonks again, but this time, Kingsley was with her. Hermione’s brows furrowed as she stepped back and opened the door. Kingsley and Tonks entered without waiting for Hermione’s invitation and she was left with no other choice than to shut the door behind them. “Afternoon, Miss Granger,” Kingsley said, surveying the entrance to her home. “Mister Malfoy is here with you?” 

 

Hermione glanced at Tonks, who gave a nod of approval, before curtly answering, “Yes.” 

 

“There’s a manner of business we need to attend to,” Kingsley said, motioning for Hermione to lead them into her home. “But that shall be addressed once Mister Malfoy has joined us.” 

 

She walked with clenched teeth and her wand clutched tightly in her hand as she showed Kingsley and Tonks to the living room. Draco was still facing the television, exactly where she had left him. At the sound of their footsteps, Draco turned around and a look of horror appeared on his features as his eyes fell on Kingsley. Kingsley, however, nodded at Draco in a polite manner. She glanced at Tonks, who didn’t seem alarmed by this visit but instead was now investigating a series of photographs on the mantle of the fireplace. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach when she realized why they must be here. Or at least, she hoped she knew why they were here. Hermione quickly returned to her spot next to Draco on the couch, before Kingsley took it upon himself to sit in the armchair her dad had always sat in, and Tonks continued to roam around the room. 

 

“How do you do, Mister Malfoy?” Kingsley asked, extending a hand to Draco. 

 

Draco’s skin flushed and he turned to look at her for help. She jerked her head towards Kingsley, and Draco, now shaking slightly, turned to face the wizard and grasped his hand as firmly as he could. “Fine,” he managed before his words seemed to fail him. 

 

“I’m sorry, Mister Shacklebolt,” Hermione said. “But would you mind explaining why you’re here?” 

 

She could tell Draco was nervous, and while she had an idea of why Tonks and Kingsley were here, she knew she could be wrong. They could be trying to take Draco away, or maybe they didn’t believe that he had defected. Kingsley clasped his hands together and heaved a heavy sigh. “Well that depends how this first part goes,” he said gravely, eyeing Draco warily as he spoke. “Our first order of business is to ensure that Mister Malfoy is truthful in saying he would like to be in protection under the Order.”

 

Her jaw clenched. She had a feeling that’s why they were here. Truthfully, deep down, she understood, but it didn’t stop the anger and the need to protect Draco from rising within her. Draco, however, seemed unphased by this, which took her by surprise. His gaze was set on Kingsley’s hands, and when she looked down, she saw why. Held in his fingers was a tiny bottle of clear liquid.  _ Veritaserum,  _ she thought. Her lips pursed; she was ready to object when Draco spoke. 

 

“I don’t need that,” he said, his voice wavering. “I have every reason to tell the truth.” 

 

Kingsley raised an eyebrow at Tonks, who was studying Draco as though she’d never really seen him before. Kingsley made to speak, but Draco pressed on. “All I’d have to look forward to if I was sent back to  _ them,  _ is death. My parents. Me.” He paused, swallowed the lump she could see forming in his throat, and took her hand in his. “I tell the truth, I’m protected and so are my parents. And I can--I can stay with Granger.” 

 

Hermione could see Tonks fighting back the urge to smile widely as she bent down to pretend to re-tie her shoe. Kingsley, however, stared Draco directly in the eyes for what felt like an eternity before slowly slipping the bottle back into his robes. Hermione’s stomach flipped; she couldn’t believe it worked. Perhaps Snape had mentioned what exactly Draco had said on the school grounds…

 

“Right then,” Kingsley said, sitting back down in the armchair and pulled out a roll of parchment, a quill and an ink bottle. With a flick of his wand, the coffee table scooted to him and he laid the parchment, quill and ink on it. “You are Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy née Black, born of the fifth of June 1980?” 

 

Draco nodded, but when Kingsley looked up at him, he said, “Yes.” 

 

“And you wish to be under the protection of the Order?” Kingsley asked. 

 

“Yes,” Draco said again, more confidently this time and with another squeeze of her hand. 

 

Hermione sat next to Draco on the couch, shaking. Tonks had seated herself on the loveseat and was watching the two men intently. Kingsley once again scribbled something on the parchment before looking up at Draco with a grim smile on his lips. “Alright son, now I need to hear about the events of the Astronomy Tower.”

 

“Why?” said Hermione immediately. She had witnessed Draco’s breakdown after that night, and she wasn’t about to have him relive it if it was going to bring on the same sort of reaction. Wasn’t it too soon to be discussing this? 

 

Kingsley shot her look and adjusted himself in the chair. “It is crucial, Miss Granger. Mister Malfoy wishes to be under the protection of the Order, however we still need to make sure we are not accepting someone who will only betray us the second he has the opportunity to do so. And his actions on the Astronomy Tower will help us determine whether or not there is that risk.” 

 

Hermione fell quiet at his reasoning, as much as she wanted to argue back. If Draco really didn’t want to be under the protection of the Order, he would have left with Snape in the first place. Draco placed a hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze. “It’s fine, Granger,” he said much more confidently than she was sure he felt. 

 

Draco took a deep breath before he began to speak. “Before the start of this year...I was chosen.” He lifted his sleeve to expose the inky black stain of the Dark Mark. “It was a punishment -- For my father, you see. He’d failed his job at the Ministry, and the Dark Lord wasn’t pleased. So...I was given this and a task. To kill our Headmaster at Hogwarts.” 

 

Hermione’s jaw fell open and she saw Draco grimace as he seemed to recall those memories. “I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone...or ask for help...it was all up to me,” he continued as Kingsley scribbled along on his parchment. 

 

“Mister Malfoy, just the events of the Astronomy Tower will do,” Kingsley said. 

 

Draco, however, shook his head. “I’ll get to that but this is just as important.” 

 

“Very well.” 

 

Draco took a deep breath once more and cast a sideways glance in her direction. Hermione couldn’t read his expression, and she didn’t have much time to even try to as he returned his gaze quickly to Kingsley. Draco launched into the story of the night on the Astronomy Tower. He talked about how when he had gotten there, there was only Dumbledore, and how the Headmaster had greeted him calmly, as though he had been expecting Draco. “I’d asked him if he was alone. There was more than one broomstick on the tower with him,” he said, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. 

 

Hermione’s stomach lurched. It had to have been Harry that was with Dumbledore; had Harry heard everything? 

 

“I told him I had let Death Eaters into the school...it was part of my task. I would have needed protection to make sure I wasn’t interrupted,” Draco explained, looking sick to his stomach. Her heart was starting to pound in her chest; she didn’t like where this was going at all. Surely Draco hadn’t…

 

“He didn’t try to stop me, but I had already disarmed him. There was nothing he could do. But he still just...stood there.” He wouldn’t look any of them in the eye as he spoke and his voice was growing shakier. 

 

Draco sniffled and used his sleeve to wipe at his nose. Hermione made to put a hand on his back but he shrugged her off. “He knew…” he said quietly. “He knew that I was supposed to kill him. He’d known it was me all year...the cursed necklace...the poisoned mead...he was right though, they were feeble attempts.” 

 

Hermione’s jaw slackened and her stomach churned. The poisoned mead... _ Ron  _ was poisoned by mead. That mead had been given to Slughorn, and intended for Dumbledore. Surely Draco hadn’t known their greedy Potions’ Professor would keep it for himself? The wheels continued to turn in her head, processing everything Draco was saying. 

 

He told Kingsley about how he had gotten the Death Eaters into the school. “And then,” Draco said, more loudly and steadily this time. “He said we should discuss my options. He said he knew about my relationship with Granger and that...if I found her, I should tell her I want out. He said she could help me.” 

 

Kingsley nodded and jotted down everything Draco had just said onto the parchment. Draco told them of how the other Death Eaters had come up to the Tower and tried to take over his task. “But Snape arrived and he...he pushed me aside and then he...killed him. Dumbledore.” 

 

Hermione let out a breath of relief that Draco had not actually followed through with the task he’d been given, but grief immediately took over as she thought of Dumbledore, who was gone. She would never speak to see or see their Headmaster again. She thought back to their very last meeting, when he’d asked once again about her relationship with Draco, and that was when everything clicked. Dumbledore had known of Draco’s task all along...and Dumbledore had been hoping she would have some sort of influence on him. Had he been hoping that she could prevent Draco from going through with his task? Had she failed the Headmaster? Draco may not have killed him, but he had still brought Death Eaters into the castle and disarmed him. Was Draco even supposed to get that far if Dumbledore had been hoping Hermione could interfere? 

 

A thick silence fell over Hermione’s living room as Kingsley jotted down the rest of his notes. He opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut in. “I didn’t want to do any of it...maybe at first I did. But...that changed. And I never  _ wanted  _ Dumbledore dead. But if I didn’t...the Dark Lord would have killed me. My parents too. After he tortured us all.” 

 

Kingsley and Tonks exchanged looks, and Hermione could tell just by Tonks’ expression that she would have a few choice words for Kingsley if he denied Draco protection. Finally, Kingsley spoke. “The two of you will be escorted to the Burrow for a few days, before being escorted to a different safe house,” he said, staring pointedly at Draco. “Mister Malfoy, we will begin locating your parents and getting them to safety, yes?” 

 

The bundle of knots that was her stomach seemed to unravel as Kingsley and Tonks got up to leave. Draco was still sitting on the couch, not looking at any of them. She was burning with questions to ask him, and was desperate for the two Order members to leave. She thanked them and practically rushed them out the door before locking it behind them. Hermione leaned against the wall and collected herself. Dumbledore was dead...truly and definitely gone. Forever. She was suddenly glad that she had not returned to Hogwarts, as it most certainly would not feel the same. But then, a thought popped into her head and an intense wave of guilt crashed over her.  _ Harry...how was he dealing with all of this?  _

 

* * *

 

Draco and Hermione sat at her kitchen table, a mug of coffee in front of each of them. The lights were dimly lit and the fireplace roared with flames. Evening had fallen over the small town and after Tonks and Kingsley had left, Hermione had told Draco she needed a nap and retreated to her room. Neither of them spoke, and Hermione had pretended to be asleep as she shifted through her thoughts. Now though, she was ready to ask the questions that had been running through her mind since earlier that day. She inhaled sharply and glanced up at Draco, whose grey eyes were staring into his mug. 

 

“The mead,” she said hoarsely; it had been hours since she uttered a word. “It was only meant for Dumbledore?” 

 

He nodded slowly, his eyes flickering to her briefly and a guilty frown overtaking his pale features. “Weasley was an accident. Had I known Slughorn would have kept it for himself--”

 

“Don’t,” she said harshly, leaning forward in her chair. “You might have actually succeeded in killing Dumbledore.”

 

Draco flinched before taking another sip of coffee. “You know, I was actually relieved that both the necklace and the mead had failed to reach him?” 

 

Hermione bit her lip and stared into her half-finished coffee. “It was really irresponsible, what you did with the necklace and the mead. Look what happened because of them--”

 

He slammed a fist down on the table and his eyes snapped up to her. He glowered at her. “I didn’t  _ mean  _ for any of that to happen. I didn’t know Bell would touch the necklace! And I didn’t know Weasley would end up drinking that mead!” 

 

She sank back in her chair and sighed. “I know,” she said quietly. “I know you didn’t mean for Ron to drink it...but he did. I’m still...I had no idea what happened on the Tower that night, Draco. All of this...I’m still processing it.” 

 

Draco nodded, his face screwed up in frustration and sadness. He ran his thumb around the edge of his mug; silence had fallen between them again. Hermione took another sip of her coffee. “You said…” she started, glancing up at him briefly. “You said you thought Dumbledore wasn’t alone on the Tower. He wasn’t. Harry was with him.” 

 

He shot an eyebrow up at this. “Great,” he muttered dully. “Potter overheard my entire conversation then, didn’t he?” 

 

Hermione grimaced. She had seen Harry’s name on the Tower that night. “Probably,” she whispered, her mug held firmly in her two hands. And then a soft groan escaped her lips as a realization dawned on her. “Well, he knows about us now, doesn’t he?” 

 

“Looks like it,” he grumbled. Silence fell over the kitchen once more. Her mug was almost completely empty now. Harry hadn’t been thrilled when she’d told him she and Draco were friends, and even though Draco hadn’t gone through with killing Dumbledore, she wasn’t sure Harry would jump for joy that they were dating. Draco and Harry were enemies for years, and it seemed impossible that this would go over well with Harry. Her thoughts wandered to Harry and how he was coping with Dumbledore’s death. Her stomach lurched as the truth sunk in deeper. 

 

“I can’t believe Dumbledore is gone,” she whispered, barely glancing up at him, afraid of what his reaction would be to her comment. And she was glad she didn’t, because when he spoke, she could hear the trembling in his voice. 

 

“His body just...fell. He fell so  _ far,  _ Hermione…” his voice cracked and he tried to hide his face as tears slipped down his cheek. “Snape was so quick and all I could do was watch.” 

 

She brushed away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. Just imagining having to witness what Draco had made her feel sick. She heard him sniffle and the scraping of the chair as he stood up to take their empty mugs to the sink. She didn’t move, lost in her thoughts, until she felt Draco’s hand on her shoulder, asking her if she wanted to shower along with him. She shook her head and muttered, “I’m going to go lay down.” 

 

Draco hesitated before he kissed the top of her head. Then he bent down next to her ear and whispered, “I knew I only needed to tell Kingsley about the Astronomy Tower...but you deserved to know everything. The truth.” 

 

She couldn’t find her words and so Draco left, leaving her at the kitchen table with her thoughts and the sinking sun. 

 

* * *

 

 

The following day, things were tense between the two of them. Hermione was still angry that Ron had ended up being one of the innocent victims of Draco’s feeble plan, but she couldn’t hate Draco for it. It hadn’t been his intention for it to fall in Ron’s hands, and she knew that. But it didn’t take away her anger. The fact that Dumbledore was gone still hadn’t fully processed with her, but she didn’t dare talk to Draco about that. After their conversation the night before, she thought it best to avoid that subject with him. 

 

“Are you ready?” Hermione asked Draco as they joined hands; Tonks and Remus stood on either side of them. He nodded in return and faced forward, looking out towards the sun rising over the horizon. Tonks and Remus had shown up before the sun was even visible, but Hermione and Draco had already been awake. The past few days had been emotionally draining, and yet it had robbed them of their ability to sleep. 

 

A split second later, with all four of them joined together by their hands, they disappeared into thin air with a pop. Colors swirled around her and for a few seconds she couldn’t breathe properly before they appeared on a grassy hill side, a gentle breeze brushing their skin. The morning air was thick with humidity and a light layer of mist had settled over the grass. Tonks and Remus were already a few steps ahead of them. Draco gripped Hermione’s hand tightly and followed in their steps. With each step they took, they got closer to the Burrow, which was now coming into view. Hermione glanced at Draco and saw him wrinkle his nose at the sight of the house. “We’re going to the Weasley’s?” he said quietly to her. 

 

“Yes,” she whispered back. 

 

They were walking up the dirt path to the Burrow, and she could already see Molly rushing towards them. Tonks and Remus were still ahead of them; they stopped Molly, exchanged a few words and only when they saw Hermione and Draco enter through the kitchen, did they wave good-bye. 

 

* * *

 

“We’ve been worried sick, Arthur and I have!” Molly said through teary eyes and cast a wary glance in Draco’s direction. 

 

Draco however, was sitting at the kitchen table with his gaze fixed on his lap. The plate of food Molly had put in front of him sat untouched. Hermione looked at him with worry before looking back at Molly. She motioned for the Weasley matriarch to follow her to the living room, where they could talk in private. Once they were sure Draco was out of earshot, Molly leaned in close and whispered, “Ginny told me everything. Is it true? The two of you--” 

 

“Yes,” she said in a hushed voice, keeping her eyes fixed over Molly’s shoulder in case Draco turned up. She wasted no time telling Molly what happened after she had ran after Draco, and why he had done what he did. “I wouldn’t have asked if we could come here if I thought he was a danger to the Order,” she finished. 

 

Molly’s eyes were filled with tears and her bottom lip quivered. “The poor boy…” she said faintly. “I don’t like his parents at all, but no child should have a threat like that hanging over their heads!” 

 

Hermione’s stomach lurched as flashbacks of Draco’s breakdown came to her mind. “Mrs. Weasley, listen, I sent a Patronus asking Remus to find out if Draco’s parents are alright...but I haven’t… Do you--”

 

Molly’s face fell and she smiled sadly at Hermione before squeezing her arm gently. “I’m sorry, dear. I haven’t heard anything. I can try and find out. Maybe Arthur’s talked to Remus.” 

 

She nodded and thanked Molly and motioned for them to head back to the kitchen. When they entered, they saw Draco finishing the last of his bacon sandwiches and bowl of fruit pieces. He’d eaten more food then than he had in the past four days. The corner of Hermione’s lips quirked upwards. Molly tensed besides her as they came into Draco’s view. He looked up at the two of them, his expression unreadable, but Hermione noticed his cheeks had tinted pink. He glanced at her and when she nodded encouragingly, he turned to Molly and said, “Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Weasley.” 

 

Hermione watched as Molly’s expression softened and her body relaxed. She smiled when the elder witch laid a hand over her heart and moved to clear Draco’s dishes. “Not a worry at all,” Molly replied, her voice wavering slightly. “Hermione dear, would you mind taking Draco up to Fred and George’s old room? I set up a cot for you in Ginny’s room.” 

 

She paused after taking Draco’s hand. “Erm, Mrs. Weasley, could I...stay in Fred and George’s room, too? It’s just--”

 

Mrs. Weasley cast the two of them a disapproving stare, her lips pursed and a hand on her hip. But before she could reply, Draco cut in. “Please...Mrs. Weasley. I’m not really ready to… We’ll behave respectfully, of course.” 

 

Whether it was the sincerity in Draco’s voice or the way he pulled her to his side that made Molly sigh and agree, Hermione didn’t know. They both thanked Molly before Hermione lead Draco up the stairs until they reached Fred and George’s old room. 

 

There were two single beds separated by a nightstand and a desk, with two large windows on the adjacent wall giving them a view of the yard and the adjoining field. A thin layer of mist covered the unkempt grass, the sun just barely visible above the horizon. Draco had laid down on the bed closest to the wall covered with moving posters of Quidditch Teams and Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes advertisements. Boxes filled with what was most likely joke shop products were stacked against the wall, at least three boxes high. 

 

Hermione sat down at the edge of his bed while he laid with his back facing her. “Are you alright?” 

 

Draco shrugged. “I suppose.” 

 

She laid down next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and burrowed her head in his neck. “I asked Molly to find out what’s going on with your parents,” she said, her lips brushing against his skin. 

 

“She’s...nice,” he said hesitantly. “A good cook, too.” 

 

Hermione let out a breathy laugh and smiled before pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “I’ll have to tell her you said that.” 

 

“Don’t you dare,” he said darkly, though she knew he was joking. 

 

“Get some sleep,” she said softly and nuzzled her head a little closer. His breathing was already growing shallow and she knew it wouldn’t be long. 

 

“Are you tired?” he asked. 

 

She shook her head. “Not really. There’s still stuff I have to talk to Mrs. Weasley about and she probably could use my help with something I’m sure.” 

 

“But you’ll stay until I fall asleep?” he asked, sounding nervous at the aspect of being alone in the Weasley’s home without her. 

 

“Yes,” she assured him. “And I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

 

Draco nodded, but didn’t respond. Hermione laid there for several minutes until she was sure he was asleep, and when he didn’t notice her moving and getting out of bed, she knew he would fine for a few hours. She headed back down the stairs to find Molly. It wasn’t until she returned to the kitchen that found Molly, bent over the sink with her arms elbow deep in water. Molly looked over her shoulder when she heard Hermione come in and cocked her head. 

 

“I’m not tired,” Hermione explained as she walked over to the sink. “Do you need help or anything?” 

 

Molly smiled sweetly at her and nodded towards the living room. “There’s a basket of clean clothes in need of folding. I’ll join you in a few minutes.” 

 

Hermione nodded and went into the living room. She found the basket of clothes by the door leading to the side yard and sat down on the couch to begin folding the clothes. It couldn’t have been more than five or ten minutes before Molly joined her on the couch. “So,” Hermione said after several minutes of silence. “What happened that night? I know there were some people hurt but…” 

 

And so Molly filled her in on everything that had happened. She told her how Bill had been attacked by Greyback, but would be alright. She learned Neville had landed in the hospital wing too, but that for the most part, everyone had remained unharmed. 

 

“I just heard from the school two days ago that they’re holding a funeral for Dumbledore on the eleventh, and they’re sending students home afterwards. Ron and Ginny will be home then.” 

 

“You didn’t have them removed?” Hermione questioned, finding it odd that Mrs. Weasley had not tried to pull her only two children in Hogwarts from the school. 

 

The matriarch shrugged and offered her a sad, but knowing smile. “They would have fought me tooth and nail.” 

 

“I’m sorry to hear about Bill,” she said sincerely. “Is the wedding--”

 

“Still on?” Molly finished. “Yes.” Hermione noticed the faintest trace of a smile on her lips. The two finished off the rest of the basket and before Molly could leave with the now folded clothes, Hermione said, “Is Harry angry that I didn’t come back?” 

 

Molly smiled fondly at her. “No,” she said. “I think you have Ginny to thank for that, though.” 

 

Hermione smiled into her lap before heading out to the garden to pull some weeds as Mrs. Weasley had requested. She figured she still had a few hours until Draco would wake up, considering this was the first time he was sleeping on a full stomach in days. It was blindingly sunny outside now, with the sun still low in the sky and a thin coat of fresh dew still clung to the grass. The humidity prickled at her skin as she set to work, yanking weeds out by the handful and starting a pile behind her.  _ They really should have a class on household charms,  _ she thought to herself as her arms grew sore.  _ That or I should buy some books on the subject.   _ Normally she enjoyed doing household chores the way she had done them her entire life, the Muggle way, but when her muscles were practically screaming, the knowledge that she  _ could  _ use her wand now that she was seventeen was appealing. 

 

Molly had come out with an ice cold glass of lemonade and when Hermione told her of her aching muscles, Molly taught her the incantation to help speed things along. It was almost lunch time by the time she finished, and she was grateful for the few hours she had gotten without her thoughts racing with worry and unanswered questions. But the same dread and sorrow washed over her the closer she got to Fred and George’s room. Draco still wasn’t awake when she entered the room, and she took the time to wash up and change into a clean pair of shorts and a t-shirt that she had packed. With a flick of her wand, the windows opened, allowing the warm, summer breeze to flow through the room. Hermione plopped down on her bed and dug out the book she had nicked from Dumbledore’s office. She’d already re-read the chapter on Horcruxes several times by now, but it never hurt to refresh her memory. 

 

It was almost an hour after she had settled down to read that Draco stirred in his sleep. Hermione hastily shoved the book back in her bag and joined Draco on his bed. He rolled over when he felt her weight on the bed, his eyes fluttering open. She smiled down at him and brushed the hair away from his eyes. “How did you sleep?” 

 

“Better than I have in a while, I’ll tell you that,” he said gruffly as he made to sit up. He extended his arm so she could curl up underneath and rest her head on his chest. She felt him kiss the top of her head before he asked, “What did you do while I slept?” 

 

“I just helped Mrs. Weasley with chores,” she said, telling him that she folded laundry and pulled weeds from the garden. Draco crinkled his nose at the thought of doing such manual labor and Hermione couldn’t but laugh and roll her eyes. “You’ve never done a single chore in your life, have you?” 

 

Draco scoffed. “Don’t pretend you don’t already know the answer to that.” 

 

“Yes, well, that will change as soon as Mrs. Weasley decides you’re well enough to help,” she told him with a pointed look. He certainly didn’t look too happy at the idea of washing dishes or doing yard work. 

 

* * *

 

She had wanted to attend Dumbledore’s funeral with Harry, Ron, Ginny and the others, but she hadn’t dared asked Draco to go with her and it would have been awful of her to leave him at the Burrow alone. So she stayed and instead sent an owl to Harry expressing her sorrow for him and that she would hopefully see him soon.

 

He hadn’t written back and it had been three days, and she hoped that Molly had been right when she said Harry wasn’t angry with her. Draco was starting to come around, as he felt more comfortable in the presence of Mrs. Weasley and Hermione. Arthur had stopped home after work one day, and Draco had gotten the sudden desire to go for a short walk around the property. She’d gone with him of course, and they ended up laying in the field on their backs, soaking up the sun. 

 

She had been surprisingly correct when she told Draco that Molly would ask him to help around the house once he had gotten a bit better, but Hermione hadn’t heard him complain once. She had brought this up to him, a grin on her face and he had merely shrugged and told her he wasn’t raised in the wild. 

 

Evening had fallen over the Burrow and once again, it was just Molly, Draco and Hermione. Dinners were usually silent, despite Draco slowly becoming more comfortable, however Molly didn’t seem to mind this. Tonight however, while they were eating, Draco paused mid-bite and asked Molly a question. 

 

“Have you heard anything about my parents?” he asked, his voice sounding higher than it usually did. Hermione froze, as did Molly. The matriarch set down her fork and wiped her hands on the apron she was still wearing. She licked her lips before looking at Draco, a sad smile on her face. Hermione was starting to think this was her new trademark. 

 

“I haven’t, dear,” she said apologetically. At the sight of panic on Draco’s face she quickly added, “But that doesn’t mean the Order hasn’t got them. They could have them in safety by now, I just don’t know yet.” 

 

She gave Draco her best, yet forced, optimistic smile before returning to her salad. But no matter how cheery she had tried to sound, Hermione thought that Molly didn’t have high hopes either. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione woke to the sound of heavy footsteps and loud voices the next morning. She nuzzled into her blanket and stole a glance over at Draco, who appeared to be sound asleep still. She heard the voices again, and immediately recognized Ron’s among them. Hermione leapt of bed and slipped on her slippers before bolting out of the bedroom, eager to get downstairs and see Ron, Ginny and Harry. 

 

She followed their voices to the kitchen where she saw Molly and Arthur sitting across from Ron and Ginny, but Harry was nowhere to be seen. Molly saw her first and got up to greet her with a hug. “I’ll fix you a plate, dear,” she said, making her way to the counter. 

 

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” she said as she sat down next to Ron. 

 

He greeted her with a one armed hug and Ginny had gotten up to wrap her arms around Hermione’s shoulders from behind. “It’s good to see you,” Ginny whispered. 

 

Hermione felt her eyes grow watery at their kindness. “Are you both okay?” she asked. 

 

She felt them both nod before Ginny pulled herself off of her and sat down on Hermione’s left. Ron took his arm off her shoulders and returned to his overfilled plate. “Harry’s not here,” Hermione said, wasting no time. “Is he okay?” 

 

Ginny tensed and Hermione saw Ron stiffen out of the corner of her eye. Ginny forced a smile and said, “He’s...alright, considering the circumstance,.” she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “He’s going to remain at the Dursley’s for now. Something about the trace…” 

 

“He’ll be safe there?” she asked. 

 

“Yes,” Arthur answered before Ginny could. “There’s aurors surrounding the place. The best of them, too.” 

 

Hermione nodded, her body relaxing upon hearing the news. At least Harry would be safe, so long as he followed the Order’s instructions, but with Dumbledore gone, she didn’t think he would dare it. Molly set a plate down in front of her and told her there was more if she was still hungry but Hermione assured her one plate would be enough. 

 

“Is Draco still sleeping?” Molly asked flippantly, busying herself with the leftovers. 

 

Hermione winced as Ron let his fork fall with a clatter onto his plate. “Malfoy’s here?” he said angrily, turning to stare at Hermione. 

 

“I tried to tell you in the common room, Ron. We’re friends, well, more than that, but--” she rambled, already knowing this wasn’t going to bode well with him. 

 

Arthur got up and kissed Molly on the cheek before announcing he was off to work while Ginny looked ready to intervene. 

 

“Do you know what he did, Hermione?” Ron spat, slamming a fist down on the table. “He let Death Eaters into the castle! He let in a  _ werewolf,  _ who attacked my brother by the way!” 

_ And you ended up drinking the poisoned mead he gave to Slughorn,  _ her brain shouted. 

 

Hermione winced. She didn’t want to tell him that. She didn’t want to tell anyone that. It’s not as if it would do any good; Ron had been an accident, but her gut told her the Weasley’s might not see it that way. Even if it was the truth. 

 

“I know that, Ron!” she nearly shouted, anger building inside her by the second. She stood up quickly from her chair, her chest heaving and her hands curled into fists at her side, not knowing how she had gotten so angry so quickly. “But seeing as your own mother doesn’t have a problem with him staying here, I suggest you learn to deal with it. We’ll be out of here soon enough, anyway,” she muttered as she stormed off upstairs. 

 

* * *

 

Molly had followed her up after she stormed off, asking if she was alright and a few more prodding questions about the events of just days ago. Hermione insisted she was fine, but also told the elder witch they were to stay somewhere else. “It’s not because of Ron,” she added hastily at the look on Mrs. Weasley’s face. “We actually didn’t have a say in the matter. Kingsley said we would stay here for a few days, then head to a different safe house.”

 

“Say no more,” Molly said with a wave of her hand, but something about the way she said it made Hermione think it might have bothered her more than she was letting on. She climbed the rest of the stairs to Fred and George’s room to find Draco sitting on one of the desk chairs by the window. He looked at her when he heard her footsteps and gave her a tired smile. 

 

“Everything okay?” she asked as she sat down in his lap with an arm around his shoulders. 

 

He nodded. “I could ask you the same question, though,” he added after a moment, giving her a knowing look. 

 

She sighed and pulled her hair away from her face. “Ron and Ginny arrived this morning and Molly asked if you were still sleeping… Ron wasn’t too happy.” 

 

Draco scowled at the mention of Ron’s arrival and clucked his tongue. He didn’t have time to reply however, as a knock sounded on the door and when Hermione turned away she saw Ginny peering around the door. “Hi,” she said, slowly entering the room as Hermione stood up. “Could I talk to you for a minute?” 

 

Hermione looked back round at Draco, who had apparently heard as he had stood up. “I’ll, erm, shower. Where--?”

 

“Three doors down, to the right,” said Ginny politely. “Mum usually keeps spare towels in there.” 

 

Draco faltered at her kind tone but mumbled a thanks on his way out. Ginny waited until the bathroom door had shut before she shut the bedroom door and sat down on George’s bed. Hermione sat down next to her, waiting for the redhead to speak. Ginny was playing with the frayed end of the quilt, gnawing at her lip. For a moment, she wondered if Ginny was going to give her two cents about Draco’s stay here or defend Ron, but then she saw one lone tear slipping down her cheek. “Harry and I broke up,” Ginny said quietly, her lips barely moving, like she didn’t want to say the words. She wiped at the tear and shot her a quivering smile. 

 

Hermione’s heart ached for Ginny. She and Harry had only gotten together a month ago or so, but Ginny had adored him for years. Their time had been cut short. “I’m sorry, Ginny,” she said softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

 

Ginny waved a hand flippantly. “It’s fine,” she said. “I understand, of course. I’m not...I’m not upset that we broke up. I just…” she looked at Hermione with tears sparkling in her eyes. “He’s off to do something... Noble and heroic. And I just want him to come back in one piece.” 

 

If it were possible, Hermione’s heart sank further in her chest. “He will, Ginny. You know he will. He always does.” She tried to sound confident, but even she wasn’t so sure what the fate of Harry would be. 

 

The responsibility to destroy Voldemort and his Horcruxes was all on his shoulders. It was up to Harry in the end. And now... Now he didn’t even have Dumbledore to help him. “He won’t be alone, Ginny,” she promised. “We won’t let him do this alone.” 

 

Ginny continued to stare down at the quilt. She sniffled and gave Hermione a small smile. “Thanks, Hermione,” she said before pulling her in for a hug. When she let go, Ginny added, “Ron wants to talk to you, by the way.” 

 

She clenched her jaw at the thought, but there were too many questions about Harry that she needed ask him. She knew Harry, and there was no doubt that he had told Ron more than he had told Ginny. After giving Ginny another hug, the redhead left and Draco returned soon after. He was dressed in the same trousers and shirt she had transfigured for him the night they arrived at her parents house. “What did she want?” he asked, nodding his head towards the door as he crossed the room to embrace her. 

 

“Just stuff,” she said passively. “Nothing about you,” she added seeing the look on his face. 

 

Draco nodded, but didn’t seem thoroughly convinced. Nevertheless, he let it go. “I have to go talk to Ron,” she told him, placing a kiss on his cheek. “About Harry. You should see if Mrs. Weasley needs help with anything; she’ll find you something anyway.” 

 

He didn’t look happy about the prospect of doing more housework, not to mention without her there with him. But he nodded anyway and left Fred and George’s room with her. They spotted Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, and while Draco went to ask her if there was anything he could do, Hermione had spotted Ron out near the garden and slipped out the door. 

 

Ron hadn’t heard her approaching and jumped back when she tapped him on the shoulder. “Merlin, Hermione!” he gasped, clutching as his chest. 

 

“Sorry,” she said half-heartedly. She knew this wasn’t a time to let her frustration with Ron simmer but sometimes she couldn’t help it. Ron gave her a lopsided, apologetic smile. He pulled her in for a hug and let out a huge sigh. 

 

When he pulled back, he said, “Sorry about earlier… Mum kind of explained things a bit more after you disappeared. Blimey, I had no idea.” 

 

At his words, it felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. It felt easier to breathe. She and Ron plopped themselves in the grass and stared out at the field that connected to the Weasley’s property. Ron inhaled sharply before he said, “The Horcrux Harry and...Dumbledore went to get? It was a fake.”

 

Hermione gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. “No,” she breathed. “All of that trouble for nothing? And...oh God, Harry…” She couldn’t imagine how angry Harry must be; making that dangerous trip, a trip that resulted in Dumbledore’s death for a fake Horcrux. 

 

“He’s going to find the rest of them, of course,” Ron continued. “Stupid prat thought he was going to do it alone.” 

 

She let out a breathy chuckle and shook her head. “He can be thick like that, can’t he?” she muttered, drawing her knees to her chest, hugging them close. Ron nodded and glanced over at her, squinting. 

 

“Hermione?” he said quietly. “How can you trust Malfoy?” 

 

Hermione let out a deep sigh. Not because she was annoyed that Ron had asked such a question, but rather because she knew it was going to come from someone eventually. She shook her head. “If you could have seen his face that night, Ron. The night of the Tower. The fear...and the regret...and the desperation.” she shook her head again, blinking away tears now. She tried to speak but a soft sob escaped instead. “He didn’t want it, Ron.”

 

Ron didn’t say anything, and once she had collected herself, she said firmly, “I’m not asking you to be his best friend, but I am asking you to be civil. He’ll be civil too.” 

 

For a moment, Hermione thought he was going to say no or that it would be impossible, but eventually he nodded his head and mumbled, “I can do that.” 

 

* * *

 

“Now you’re  _ both  _ coming to the wedding, alright?” Molly said as she patted Hermione’s cheek. They were leaving in just a few moments, once again accompanied by Tonks and Remus. Draco was standing at her side, waiting anxiously to leave. She knew he was somewhat eager to leave the Burrow; after a rather silent and awkward dinner between the five of them the night before, she couldn’t fully blame him. Ron had kept his promise and remained civil, but the conversation was forced and never lasted long. 

 

“Of course,” Hermione responded and allowed Molly to pull her in for a hug. 

 

Molly turned to Draco, and she went to pat his cheek but perhaps thought better of it as she pulled her hand away. Draco must have seen because he stuck a hand out for her to shake. Molly smiled and shook his head. “Thanks for...everything, Mrs. Weasley. We really appreciate it.” 

 

The Weasley matriarch looked at Draco with a small smile, “No trouble at all dear.” 

 

Hermione and Draco left the Weasley home with Molly shouting after them to take care of themselves. They gave her one final wave before joining Remus and Tonks on the dirt path. With a promise to Ron and Ginny that she would keep in touch the best she could in these times, and the knowledge that Harry was at least safe for now, with Draco’s hand in hers, she felt light and airy for the first time in what felt like forever. 

 

“Can you tell us where we’re going?” Hermione asked Remus and Tonks. They were walking to the same hillside that they had Apparated to when they first arrived at the Burrow just days ago. 

 

Tonks smirked but shook her head. “Sorry, but I can’t. So Draco, how are you feeling?” 

 

Draco looked taken aback by her question and his steps faltered for a moment. When he regained his composure, he shrugged and said, “Alright, I suppose.” Then after a moment he added, “I’d really like know if my mother and father are safe.” 

 

Remus and Tonks exchanged looks, before Tonks said, “I can try and find out for you, but no promises.” 

 

They arrived at the hillside a few minutes later. Hermione made sure she had her beaded bag, which she had applied an Undetectable Extension charm to before joining hands with Remus. When all four of them were connected, they Disapparated with a pop. 

 

* * *

 

They were on another hillside again, and set off for the other side. The sun was slowly rising, the sky an array of light blues, soft pinks and bright oranges. It was silent in these hills; no birds could be heard chirping, no breeze rustling the grass, not even a buzz of insects. Hermione shivered as they walked through the shaded hills; she’d packed her jumper but it was no doubt buried in her bag and she didn’t feel like retrieving it at the moment. Draco stepped closer to her and put an arm around her shoulders, allowing her to siphon his warmth. As they trudged on, the silence pressed in on them on all sides, Hermione’s thoughts began to wander and she thought of Ron who had told her about Harry.  _ He’s going to hunt down the rest of the Horcruxes.  _ Surely, Harry didn’t expect to do this alone. Surely he knew they would be with him as much as possible. 

 

They were getting closer to their destination, and a two-story house came into view. It was the only house on this side of the hill with open land surrounding it, a few trees here and there and what looked to be a small pond not far from the house. Draco shot her a worried look and tightened his grip on her hand. Tonks seemed almost excited to arrive at the house and she was practically bouncing on her heels when she knocked on the door. Hermione could hear footsteps on the other side and muffled voices. When the front door opened, it took every ounce of self-control she had not to make a noise. The woman standing before them looked a lot like Bellatrix Lestrange, except her smile was softer and warm and her hair was more brown rather than black. Next to her, Draco was standing as stiff as a board, his jaw slightly slack. 

 

The woman rushed them in and shut the door behind them. She hugged Tonks tightly and pecked Remus on the cheek, and then, her eyes fell on Draco and they grew wide with shock. Her lips quivered as she smiled at him and held out her hand. “Draco, at last, we meet. I’ve been waiting for this day since I found out you were born,” she said softly. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, and he really did sound it. “But I don’t know who you are.” 

 

The woman’s face fell in disappointment before she recovered quickly and forced a smile. “My apologies,” she said. “I’m your Aunt. Andromeda. I don’t suppose your mother has ever mentioned me?” 

 

Draco looked uncomfortable at this. “I knew I had another Aunt, but I was never allowed to ask questions about you.” 

 

Hermione wished she didn’t have to witness the look of heartbreak on the woman’s face; it nearly tore her own heart in two. Tonks was looking back and forth between the two. Remus, thankfully, filled the silence. “Well you two, this is where you’ll be staying for a while. As I understand it, you are both invited to Bill and Fleur’s wedding, so we’ll keep in touch about that. Andromeda, it was nice seeing you again. Tell Ted I said hello.” 

 

“Bye, mum,” Tonks muttered as she hugged Andromeda again. “Love you, I’ll be in touch. Stay safe!” 

 

Andromeda waved as the two left. They heard a small popping sound and Hermione knew Remus and Tonks were gone. Draco’s Aunt returned her attention to the two of them. “I’m sorry dear,” she said, holding out her hand to Hermione. “I didn’t introduce myself before. I’m Andromeda.” 

 

“Hermione Granger,” she replied as she shook Andromeda’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

 

“Are you two hungry? Thirsty?” she said, stepping towards the kitchen. 

 

“I could go for a cup of a tea,” Hermione said as she turned to look at Draco. But Draco was staring at the ground with his hands in his pockets. 

 

“I didn’t sleep very well last night. Could I just go lay down?” he asked, not quite meeting his Aunt’s eyes. 

 

Disappointment flitted across her features for the second time since they’d arrived but she nodded and offered to show Draco to the bedroom they would be staying in. Andromeda told her to wait in the kitchen, so Hermione went and sat at the small dining table. The kitchen was on the smaller side, but every surface was gleaming and looked brand new. There was a nice view of the pond from the kitchen windows as well. Andromeda returned fairly quickly, and forced a smile at Hermione. 

 

“He’ll come around,” she said as Andromeda fussed with the teapot and pulled two mugs from the cabinet. She froze. “Draco,” Hermione clarified. “Takes him a bit, but he will in the end.” 

 

Andromeda had resumed making a pot of tea for the two of them and now stood leaning against the counter, observing Hermione. “My nephew mentioned you are his girlfriend?” 

 

Hermione nodded and accepted the mug of tea Andromeda handed her. “I am,” she said. “We’ve been friends for a while now. Since practically the beginning of sixth year…He’s been through a lot recently. I think this is all a pretty big shock for him.” 

 

“Is it true?” Andromeda whispered. “Is Dumbledore...dead?”

 

She nodded and forced herself to take another sip of tea. She pretended not to see when the older witch paused to compose herself. Andromeda sat down across from her, looking lost in her own thoughts. Hermione didn’t mind. The silence between them was comfortable, despite the fact they hardly knew one another. Hermione didn’t know how long they sat like that for; drinking their tea, gazing out the window or into their laps, thinking. It wasn’t until the thought popped into her head that she spoke, “You were disowned from your family, weren’t you?” She paused then said quietly, “I’ve seen your name on the family tapestry in Grimmauld Place.” 

 

Andromeda nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I was.” 

 

“Why?” she asked, unable to stop herself. 

 

The older witch smiled sadly. “I fell in love. He’s muggle-born and my parents did not approve.” 

 

Hermione’s heart sank. She knew how Draco’s parents felt about muggle-borns. People like  _ her. _ She inhaled sharply and rubbed her hands against her thighs. “Draco’s parents don’t think highly of muggle-borns…” she mumbled, hating that she let the words slip past her lips. 

 

Andromeda looked confused for a moment before understanding flitted across her face. “I know,” she said softly. And then she smiled. “But my dear, I think he’s already made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t agree with them.” 


	33. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24, who is posting this on her FFN account!
> 
> As usual, we encourage you to follow us tumblr (avdubs and hexrmionegranger) for updates about the fic. We thank you all for the continuous support, comments and love! Enjoy and let us know what you think!!

It was rather strange at first for Hermione, having to sit with a woman she barely knew and attempt to make conversation. Especially since that woman was her boyfriend’s Aunt. After their initial cup of tea together, Andromeda had excused herself saying that she had just been in the middle of doing some clothes washing, and invited Hermione to make herself comfortable in whatever room she wanted.

 

She was shown to the living room and thanked the older witch for her hospitality and looked around. The home was a tad smaller than the Burrow, but seemed larger inside due to it being quite organised and tidy. There was a large window with a bright yellow curtain framing it, that overlooked the front yard. The narrow space of wall next to the door into the room, had a tall, filled-to-the-brim bookcase with various knick-knacks also pushed onto shelves. A fireplace also stood against one wall and Hermione wandered over to it when she saw various photo frames on the mantle, and she smiled when she saw the largest one.

 

It looked rather faded, but the feeling the photo gave was far from that of its dim colouring. Andromeda and her husband stood behind a very young Tonks in the photo, whose hair was a vibrant shade of bubblegum pink as she looked up at her parents. Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a grin, while her father looked at her in adoration. The baby-faced Tonks in the picture -- who Hermione thought couldn’t be much older than ten years old -- and her parents looked the image of a perfect, happy family. Maybe, Hermione thought, it was due to Andromeda’s own difficult upbringing which caused her to strive to make her daughter grow up in a happy household.

 

Other photos on the mantle piece included one of the Order of the Phoenix, Tonks with a roll of parchment which looked like a certificate, grinning with bright green hair, then another photo of Tonks as a newborn, cradled in her mother’s arms. Hermione smiled once more and then turned to look at the bookcase. Unable to help herself, she wandered over, admiring the different books on the shelves, and eventually picked one out at random, and took a seat on the comfortable couch and began to read.

 

By the time Hermione looked up from her book, remembering just exactly where she was, the morning sun had fully risen and her stomach was beginning to rumble. A look at her watch alerted her that it was nine o’clock, and she stood up and placed the book back on the bookshelf where she had found it. It wasn’t hard to find the kitchen again, as it was only down the hallway, and when she entered the room, she was greeted by the sight of an unknown man sitting at the dining table. When she looked closer, however, she realised he wasn’t unknown at all, but was the man who had been in most of the pictures on the mantle in the living room. It was Andromeda’s husband…

 

He looked up from the paper he was reading and gave her a warm smile. “Good morning,” he said and folded his paper closed. “I’m Ted. You must be Hermione?”

 

“Yes,” Hermione nodded and stepped forward, politely putting her hand out to shake his when he offered it in a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you so much for letting Draco and I stay in your house.”

 

“It’s not a problem, love,” Ted assured her and stood from his chair. “What can I get you to eat? You haven’t had breakfast I’m assuming?” He asked, and from the shake of her head, he continued. “Toast and eggs will do, I think. How about that?”

 

“It sounds perfect,” Hermione gave him another small smile and watched as he busied himself with finding everything needed to make the meal. She stood awkwardly without moving until footsteps behind her caused her to move out of the doorway. “Sorry,” she murmured an apology and let Andromeda pass.

 

“Don’t apologise, it’s okay,” the witch gave her a smile and a gentle pat on the arm. “Help yourself to anything you need. The fridge and pantry is yours as well.”

 

Hermione nodded but had to admit to herself that they were both extremely hospitable to someone they hadn’t ever met before. She didn’t think it was appropriate just yet to help herself to their food and drink even though she’d been given permission, so she sat at the dining table and watched as husband and wife moved around sorting out breakfast. A sting of hurt sliced her heart when she longed to see her own parents doing exactly that, so she quickly forced the thought from her mind and looked away, down at the paper.

 

_ A ‘Beautiful and Touching’ Memorial for Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _ , the title of the front page read.  _ See more on page 3. _

 

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to look and stared down at the knots of wood in the table, and brushed her thumb along the edge.

 

“Hermione, do you think Draco will be awake to eat soon?” Andromeda asked, breaking her out of her reverie.

 

“Uh… I’m not sure… I’ll go check on him,” she said, immediately standing, needing  _ something _ to do before her thoughts returned to things she didn’t want to think about right then.

 

“Upstairs, second door on the right,” Andromeda directed her and Hermione took her leave at once. She could hear the soft murmurings of Andromeda and Ted in the kitchen as she left, and knew that they were no doubt talking about her and Draco. Nothing bad -- she knew they weren’t those kind of people, and she’d only known them for less than a day. She ascended the stairs and came up onto a wide landing with bright wallpaper and various pieces of art and pictures adorning the walls.

 

The second door on the right was closed, and she tapped her fingers against it three times before slowly opening it and peeking in. She looked into the dark room and saw the shadow of Draco’s head lift up from the bed before settling back down. “I’m awake,” he said, his voice gruff with tiredness.

 

Hermione left the door open a few centimetres and walked in to sit next to him on the large double bed that took up the majority of the room’s space. “How are you feeling?” She asked him, reaching out to brush back his fringe from his forehead.

 

“I don’t even have the words to explain,” he said and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

 

“I know what you mean…” She mused, and let her hand rest on his lap. “Would you like to come down for breakfast?” She asked, remembering the main reason why she’d came to see him in the first place.

 

He paused before answering, leading her to wonder just what thought process he was going through. “I probably should, shouldn’t I?” He murmured and pushed his hair back.

 

She shrugged. “It would seem polite,” she said.

 

“This is all so strange… Do you think we were sent here because of who Andromeda is? Because she’s my Aunt?”

 

“Probably,” Hermione nodded, not sugarcoating what she thought. “But from the way she and Ted have been talking, they’re not against you in any way. Or what happened…” She added, glancing at him to see what his reaction was.

 

He nodded tersely and looked down at his lap. “Wait… Ted?” He asked.

 

“Her husband,” Hermione told him. “I only just met him. He seems nice… Reminds me of my dad a bit,” she added as an afterthought, and the words seemed to slip from her lips before she could think otherwise. Her lips quirked upwards when his hand slipped into hers and held tightly.

 

“He’d be the man that caused my Aunt’s disownment, then,” Draco said quietly.

 

“I don’t think  _ he _ caused it. More like the idea of him was too much for your mother’s family to comprehend,” Hermione told him, rubbing her thumb along his.

 

He let out a soft laugh and rest his head back and she heard the soft thud of it hitting the headboard of the bed. “Everything is so fucked up,” he said.

 

“Messed up…” She corrected quietly, but smiled from the look on his face. “Come on,” she said, and stood up from the side of the bed. She leaned closer to him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Let’s go eat some breakfast then we can… I’m not sure, really, but I’m sure we’ll find something to do.”

 

“You’re a star persuader, Granger,” he groaned as he pushed the covers back.

 

* * *

 

Before leaving the Burrow, Molly had given Draco a variety of different old clothes she had scattered around that the twins no longer wore. They’d been too small length wise for Fred and George, but turned out to fit Draco near perfectly, and Draco had made it known to Hermione how much he hated that they were the only clothes he now owned. She’d told him to be grateful, though, as they were proper clothes and not the shabby items she’d managed to transfigure the night they arrived at her parent’s house. Along with the new clothes, Draco had been given a toothbrush and a second-hand pair of shoes.

 

While Draco then took his clothes and toothbrush to find the bathroom in Andromeda’s home, Hermione decided to change into some clean clothes of her own, and met up with Draco in the bathroom just as he finished brushing his teeth. “They don’t look too bad,” she said with a smile when she saw the clothes he was wearing. It was a rather garish orange shirt and some trousers that were a centimetre or so too long for him, but they were clothes at least.

 

He gave her a look and then sighed. “Right…” He scoffed. “Can we go downstairs now? I’m starving.”

 

Before they entered the kitchen, Hermione heard Andromeda and Ted quietly talking, and she turned to see Draco slowing down, having heard them too. She knew that he wanted to stop and listen to what they were saying, but Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him along. It would be rude of them to stop and eavesdrop, especially given the circumstances of how new they were to this house and it’s owners. It wouldn’t be right.

 

Their entrance into the kitchen made Andromeda and her husband stop talking, and she stood up from the table with a smile. “Ah, Draco, you’re awake,” she said and then gestured to the other chairs at the table. “Both of you, sit, please. I take it you’re fine with eggs and toast, Draco?”

 

Draco had followed Hermione to the table when they’d been invited too, but paused in pulling out the chair when he was addressed. “Yeah... “ He nodded and then sat down as Hermione did too. She reached under the table and placed her hand on his knee and gave it a soft squeeze before smiling at Andromeda and taking cutlery from her when she offered.

 

“I’m Ted, Draco,” Ted introduced himself, leaning over slightly to extend his hand.

 

Draco looked at him with slightly widened eyes, almost as if he’d forgotten the older wizard was there, but much to Hermione’s relief, he reached across and shook Ted’s hand.

 

Shook his  _ Uncle’s _ hand.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Draco mumbled and took his hand back and looked down at the plate of food that had been set in front of him.

 

The more Hermione thought, the more she realised how bizarre this situation must be for him. It was strange enough for  _ her _ . Here he was, sitting at a tiny dining table with his Aunt who he hadn’t seen for his entire life -- nor really heard about -- and with the man who had been the reason he’d never known her. Not only that, but Andromeda looked so much like her sisters Bellatrix and Narcissa, that it was bound to make Draco feel a mixture of confusing emotions. He couldn’t look at her and pretend that they weren’t related. He would look at her and see his mother; see his other Aunt who had brought so much darkness into his life since her escape from Azkaban.

 

The four of them ate for the first few minutes in silence, with forks and knives scraping their plates occasionally. Andromeda was the first to speak. “I noticed that you haven’t got any of your own clothes, Draco,” she said, looking at him, and it took him a couple of seconds to raise his eyes from his plate to look at her. “I’d like to know your size so Ted and I can go out and buy you some things you’d be more comfortable in.”

 

Hermione glanced at Draco and saw as he shook his head tersely. “You don’t need to do that. I can’t ask you to.”

 

“You’re not asking,” Andromeda smiled. “I’m your Aunt, I’m allowed to buy you some clothes,” she said with a soft laugh. “Besides, I have many years of missed birthday and Christmas presents to make up on.”

 

Hermione smiled at that, and Draco did too, though it was stiff and noticeably false. She wanted desperately to tell him that things would be alright here with Andromeda and Ted… That he didn’t need to feel uncomfortable around them.

 

“Your birthday was just recently, wasn’t it?” Andromeda said, and that got Draco’s full attention.

 

He looked at her, brows furrowed, and asked, “How do you know that?”

 

Ted smiled and so did Andromeda. “Your mother,” she said, and before Draco could ask any more questions, she continued. “A week after you were born, I got a letter from her. She told me you’d been born on the fifth. Healthy, happy, looking just as a Malfoy would expect to be,” she told him. “That was the first time I’d heard from her in almost ten years. And the last, too, but I cherish that letter.”

 

“She was very happy when she found out she was an Aunt,” Ted added with a soft laugh.

 

Hermione smiled too from just seeing how the memory brought a smile to Andromeda’s face. It showed that no matter what had happened in her family, she still cared for them. Well, she still cared for Narcissa…

 

“My mother never mentioned that she’d ever written to you,” Draco spoke finally, coming from his shock of finding out that his Aunt had known about him since he was born. And that his  _ mother _ was the reason for that; his mother, who had denied all contact with her sister and didn’t speak of her at all, had been the one to reach out and make contact.

 

“I’m not surprised at that,” Andromeda said, and Hermione caught her smile fading slightly. “It wouldn’t have looked very good if she was found out to have been corresponding with me.”

 

“You wrote back?” Hermione asked, unable to stop herself from doing so.

 

The witch shook her head. “I couldn’t. I wanted to, mind you. Her letter stated that it wouldn’t work out well for either of us if I was to reply.”

 

Hermione nodded and looked over at Draco who was back to staring at his plate. He looked paler than usual, and she put her hand down to rest on his knee once more. “I’m sorry,” Draco said, lifting his eyes to meet his Aunt’s. “That you couldn’t talk to her more.”

 

Andromeda gave him a kind smile, but Hermione could see the sadness in her eyes. “You have nothing to apologise for,” she assured him. There was silence between the four of them until Andromeda sat up straighter in her chair and changed the subject. “Now, about those new clothes…”

 

* * *

 

“I’m really proud of you, Draco,” Hermione said softly. His arm was wrapped around her waist, her back pressed to his front as they lay side by side in their bed upstairs in the room that was now theirs. Dinner had long since passed, as had Andromeda leaving to buy Draco a variety of different clothes and pyjamas; the pyjamas of which he was wearing now.

 

“Why?” He asked. “I haven’t done anything since we’ve gotten here.”

 

“Yes you have,” Hermione said. The bed creaked and the covers rustled as she turned to face him. “You’ve had so much new information thrust onto you and you’ve taken it in your stride. Not many people would be able to do this as well as you have.”

 

“I haven’t done it well,” he mumbled. “I can barely look at her or talk to them.”

 

“But you’re  _ trying _ ,” Hermione said. “Draco, you’ve just met her. She’s your blood, and you’re managing to cope with it, or at least attempting to cope with it.”

 

Draco swallowed and didn’t answer for a few seconds. “I just see my mum when I look at her,” he said. “And then I get angry, because I want to be with  _ her _ , not my Aunt. I feel horrible when I think that, since it’s not Andromeda’s fault, and yet I still can’t look her in the eye properly.”

 

“You’ve only known her for less than a day,” Hermione said, placing her hand on his chest. “No-one’s expecting any differently of you--”

 

“She is,” he interrupted. “She talks to me like she’s known me my whole life. I said to her face that I didn’t recognise her or know anything about her, but she still smiled. People aren’t meant to  _ do _ that, Hermione.”

 

Hermione pursed her lips and then let out a soft sigh. She was confused about the situation too. “She’s showing forgiveness,” she said. “She’s not punishing you for what her own family did. I think you need to understand that too.” She leaned closer so their noses brushed together. “You don’t need to feel guilty or sad over what happened in the past. It’s horrible that it can’t be changed, but she’s your family now, Draco.” He made to speak but she placed two fingers on his mouth and gave him a small smile. “I’m not saying treat her like you’ve known her your whole life. Just know that she’s trying, and you’re allowed to try too. You don’t need to have the world’s best relationship with her, but I know you’ll be able to look her in the eye one day and be alright with that.”

 

When her fingers dropped from his lips, he didn’t answer at first, but nodded. He rest his head properly on the pillow, and she followed suit, and after a while, she closed her eyes. The sheets rustled as Draco moved to get more comfortable and his arm slung over her waist again and he pulled her close to his front. “I just miss my mum. And my dad,” he murmured against her forehead.

 

“I know you do,” she replied quietly and curled her fingers into his top.

 

_ I miss my parents too. _

 

* * *

 

The next several days passed much the same as their first day in Andromeda and Ted’s house had. Draco made unnecessary excuses to stay in bed longer in the mornings, and retire to the bedroom early in the evenings. Hermione mostly ate breakfast with Andromeda every morning, as Ted spent most of the day at Grimmauld Place with members of the Order. Breakfast was filled with small-talk between Hermione and Andromeda, with the latter filling in Hermione on the Order’s plans as best as she could, and suggesting books for her to read from the bookshelf that sat in the living room. The meal always ended with Andromeda asking her to convince Draco to come downstairs, and although Hermione would always go to her room to tell Draco just that, she always came back down by herself.

 

When Draco would eventually come downstairs, it would be while Hermione and Andromeda were both in the living room -- Hermione reading a book Andromeda had suggested, and the older witch reading the Prophet --, and he would step inside the room only to ask if he could make himself some lunch.

 

“You don’t need to ask, Draco,” Andromeda had said to him with a smile the first time he’d asked the day after they’d arrived.

 

Hermione had excused herself then to go with Draco to the kitchen, where he had become tense and snappy towards her, saying he couldn’t act normal and was going back to bed.

 

This attitude kept up much more than Hermione thought was necessary, and his unwillingness to cooperate only made her frustration and annoyance rise. They were supposed to be happy now that they were safe and with people that could protect them, but Draco could hardly look his Aunt and Uncle in the eye, and had started to talk less and less to Hermione whenever she saw him.

 

It gave her too much time to think. She’d overheard Andromeda and Ted talking one night a couple of days after she and Draco had arrived, and heard Ted start to talk about Harry before their voices dropped quieter than Hermione was able to hear without actually going into the room. She felt terrible for Harry, having to stay with the Dursleys while he knew exactly what was going on in the Wizarding World, and having to mourn and grieve for Dumbledore all by himself. She couldn’t write to him, she had already asked Ted if it was possible, and he had told her that no, it wouldn’t be safe for any of them, and owls were being intercepted too often nowadays.

 

She missed Ron and Ginny too. She didn’t know how far away the Burrow was from Andromeda and Ted’s house, but she wished so desperately that she could spend the afternoon with them. She wanted to sit with Ron and properly explain everything that had been happening in sixth year with Draco -- he deserved to understand. She wanted to lay with Ginny and comfort her after her breakup with Harry, because she just knew how devastated the girl would be about it, but of course, put up a brave front.

 

One night, Hermione, Draco and Andromeda had been sitting in the kitchen eating dinner in silence when they heard the roar of the fireplace, and a few seconds later, Ted appeared looking disheartened. He’d been quiet as he dished some food onto a plate, and Andromeda’s concern for him had been noticeable. “What happened?” She’d asked. Hermione’s heart had started to race as Andromeda had asked ‘what  _ happened _ ’, not, ‘what’s  _ wrong _ ’.

 

“They found some Muggles,” Ted responded. “North London. Death Eaters had killed them.”

 

Andromeda’s intake of breath had been sharp but quiet, but Hermione made the most noise as she pushed her chair back, the legs scraping across the wooden floor. “They got them?” She asked, feeling her voice start to quiver.

 

“Hermione--” Ted had began to speak, but she shook her head.

 

“Was it a random attack?” She asked, interrupting him.

 

“We don’t know yet,” he answered, and she could sense his honesty.

 

She had ended up excusing herself from the table then, telling Draco to stay where he was and that she would be back in a few minutes. That had been a lie of course, as she had went upstairs to their bedroom and spent the next half an hour pacing back and forth. Her parents were Muggles, and that was well known. She was  _ Harry Potter’s best friend, Muggleborn… Mudblood _ . The Death Eater’s knew that. She wasn’t stupid to think that her parents would be protected or not at risk. What better way to harm Harry than to ruin his best friend through killing her parents?

 

Her hands shook as she clutched at the sleeves of her jumper, the blood pounding in her head being the only thing she could hear. Thankfully, her parents were still in Italy, but they would be home in only a matter of days. What happened after that? Death Eaters could be laying in wait for them, ready to do to them what they had done to the Muggles Ted had just spoken about.

 

She couldn’t lose them, she needed to do everything in her power to ensure her safety, but she had no idea where to start in her ideas. She was seventeen, she didn’t know  _ everything _ about the Wizarding world. Of course she had read on enchantments and protective wards, but they couldn’t have been  _ that _ strong if she had found out about them in the school library.

 

When Draco came up to the room an hour later, she’d ignored his questions of asking if she was okay, and retired to bed, but didn’t sleep a wink.

 

* * *

 

 

“Come downstairs,” Hermione said as she stood by the door, holding onto the doorknob with an unnecessarily tight grip.

 

“No. I’m fine here,” Draco answered. He was laying under the covers, staring at the wall. He didn’t even turn to look at her when she spoke. It was well past lunch time and he hadn’t left the room at all. Her anger had been growing; frustration over the fact that he  _ had _ at least one person of his family right there, and he was choosing to isolate himself. Annoyance because he had _ her _ and he hadn’t spoken to her properly in almost two days.

 

“Get up,” she said tightly and stepped into the room and grabbed the bottom of the quilt.

 

“I’m not moving,” he responded, his voice sounding almost bored as he grabbed the quilt and held it firmly.

 

That did it.

 

“Draco, get up!” She snapped loudly and pulled with all her might to rip the cover off him.

 

He sat up in bed and glared at her. “What the hell was that for?!”

 

“I’m sick of you moping around all day, ignoring everything that’s been given to you. Ignoring your Aunt who’s offered  _ so _ much to us to keep us safe. To keep  _ you _ safe!” She yelled, and didn’t feel a shred of guilt when she saw him wince. “You’re keeping yourself holed up in here  _ all _ day, ignoring everyone else. You’re not the only one here with problems, Draco!”

 

His look that had softened when she first snapped, was now turning angry, and he swung his legs off the bed to stand up. “Oh,  _ really _ ? Because not knowing if my parents are dead or alive isn’t serious enough, is it?”

 

“You’re not the only one!” She shouted, glaring at him herself. “Your parents have a chance, Draco! And you have one family member here,  _ trying _ to make sure you’re okay, and you’re throwing it back in her face!”

 

“If  _ he _ gets my parents, they will be killed--”

 

“And mine won’t?!” She interrupted him and pushed at his chest when he took a step forward. “When the Order gets your parents, yes,  _ when _ , they will be fine. The Order can protect them.  _ They _ can protect themselves. What do my parents have against the people who want them dead?  _ Nothing _ . They don’t have wands, they don’t have  _ anything _ and I can’t do a thing to make sure they’re okay!”

 

Draco hadn’t shown any sign of wanting to talk when she finished, and he watched as her chest heaved and her eyes shone with tears.

 

“When they get back from their holiday, you know as well as I do that there’s  _ nothing _ I can--”

 

“Hermione,” he murmured and took another step forward, but she moved away from him. “They’re going to be fine. There’s something we can do when they come back, surely there is.”

 

“There’s not,” she snapped and wiped her cheek when she felt the first hot, angry tear fall from her eye. “M-My magic isn’t strong enough to keep their house protected,” she said, and the first realisation of how she wasn’t  _ good _ enough to save them, really hit her.

 

Draco seemingly didn’t care that she’d pushed him away twice already, and he stepped forward and took a hold of her wrists. “We’re going to work something out,” he said to her and she shook her head. “ _ Yes _ , we will. You promised me you would help take care of my parents, and I’m going to help you with yours. There’s got to be something we can do.”

 

She breathed in shakily. “There’s not. I’ve been trying to think of what to do over and over, and there’s nothing. They wouldn’t leave if I told them to, they wouldn’t be safe under wards…”

 

“Why can’t there be more Aurors around their house?” He asked.

 

“There’s a war coming, Draco. Do you really think the Order can spare anyone to go and stand outside my parents’ home? It’s not of importance to the Order, there’s bigger things happening,” she said and raised one hand to brush away her tears again. She watched as Draco’s lips twitched and she knew that he was fighting for something to say. But how could the blind lead the blind? He was in an equally difficult situation, trying to fight for the safety of his own parents, and if he didn’t know how to help  _ them _ \-- able wizards with powerful magic --, how could he be expected to try and find a solution to protecting her parents. “Just…go downstairs,” she said to him after she had wiped her cheeks dry. She hated the sound of her own voice, tired and empty. “Go to the living room or something, just...don’t stay up here all day.”

 

“What about you?” He asked, dropping his hands to his sides.

 

“I need to sleep,” she lied and stared down at her feet. He would see right through her lie, she knew that.

 

Which was why it surprised her when he walked around her to the door. “I’ll tell Andromeda you aren’t feeling well,” he said and she turned her head slightly to see him leave the room. Just as she was about to take a step towards the bed, she stopped and turned around when she heard Draco. “Andromeda?” He asked and then a few seconds later, he appeared back at the door with his Aunt beside him.

 

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Andromeda said, and took a step towards Hermione. “I was going to my own bedroom when I heard you both.”

 

Hermione felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. The woman who had brought them into her home with complete trust in them, had beared witness to their fight. “I’m sorry,” she apologised, “I should have shut the door… Really, I shouldn’t have shouted at Draco to begin with…”

 

“Don’t apologise,” Andromeda shook her head. “I heard what you were saying about your parents. Both of you,” she looked at Draco too, but then back to Hermione. “But I think I can help you. I think I have an idea.”

 

* * *

 

The taxi drive to Heathrow seemed like the longest period of time she’d ever had to experience in her life. They couldn’t apparate since there was too many of them going that it would be clear for anyone to spot their magical presence if they so desired, so the next best thing was to take taxis to and from the airport. Though the chances of any Death Eater being around Heathrow or waiting for them was very low, Mad-Eye Moody had stressed the importance of being prepared too much, and Hermione knew it was better to go along with his plan rather than try to make her own.

 

She had been clutching Draco’s hand from the moment they’d gotten into the taxi from the town closest to Andromeda and Ted’s house. She knew that he was hesitant and wary over getting into the car, and she knew that the sensible thing to have done was to convince him that he could wait for her with Andromeda until she came back, just to save him from the stress of the journey, but she hadn’t even tried. She knew that she needed him for this. In just over an hour from then, she wouldn’t have her parents anymore. They wouldn’t know her, or know that she ever existed. The thought made her lean against Draco and struggle to hold back the tears that had been sporadically falling ever since the definitive plan to emigrate her parents had been made.

 

When Andromeda had admitted to hearing Hermione and Draco’s fight, Hermione hadn’t expected the result from that to be one that would save her parents. She’d told Draco and Hermione to come with her downstairs, where she had used the fireplace to Floo call Grimmauld Place, and only seconds later, Remus and Mad-Eye appeared in the living room.

 

_ “Obliviation?” Remus asked, looking between Andromeda and Hermione, the latter who was sitting with Draco on the loveseat, clutching his hand tightly. _

 

_ “How else can we protect them?” Andromeda asked rhetorically. “Like I told you of what Hermione said, it would be unrealistic for you to station Aurors around them at all times given what is imminent in the future. Wards can’t keep everyone out if they want to force themselves in.” _

 

_ “And what is it you suggest we do with them once they’re obliviated?” Moody asked gruffly. _

 

_ Hermione spoke up then, for the first time since the wizards had entered the room. “Send them away,” she said. “They can’t stay in Britain. They’ll be found regardless of any memories they do or don’t have.” The thought of wiping her parents of all memory of her hurt more than a stab to the heart, but she knew deep down that it was the only way to ensure their safety. It was the only way that they would survive, and see the coming up of the sun every day, and the rising of the moon at night. The only way they would be able to look at each other and smile, filled with the love they’d always shown for one another. And yes, they wouldn’t remember her, or any of the world she had brought them to know, but to Hermione, it didn’t matter as much as keeping them safe. She would do anything in the world to ensure their safety. Including dissolving herself from their life. _

 

_ “And have you been told of the risks?” Moody asked Hermione singularly. “That they might be found, anyway? That the charm may backfire? That it might be impossible to restore their memory?” _

 

_ Hermione swallowed down the lump in her throat and she tightened her hold on Draco’s hand when she felt him stiffen and move forward on the couch. “Wherever they go, it will be far away from Britain, so the chances of them being found will be slim to none,” she said, her voice shaking. She couldn’t look Moody in the eyes. She avoided Andromeda or Remus’ looks too. “I trust in the Order that only someone entirely capable of performing the charm will do so. And if their memories are never restored?” She trailed off and Draco squeezed her hand. “Then at least I’ll know I did everything I could to keep them alive.” _

 

_ “Hermione, this is a very tough choice for you to be making,” Remus said softly, and from the tone of his voice, she had no problem looking at him. He made her feel calmer, with the soothing aura he had about himself just then. _

 

_ “I know it is,” she assured him. “But Andromeda’s told me more about the charm than I knew before. And like I said, I trust you at the Order to only get the best person for the job to do so. I want my parents’ safety more than I want anything else. It doesn’t matter what fallout it may cause for me. This is about them.” _

 

She hadn’t been present for the obliviation. She’d been informed that an Auror and another Order member had been waiting in her family home for when her parents arrived back from their holiday to Italy. They’d been confunded long enough for the Order member (Jones was his name, Hermione had been told) to cast a sufficient memory charm on them. No longer would they remember their daughter or the magical world she had been thrust into. No longer would they remember their life in Britain, but would only be concerned of where they would be moving to live as Monica and Wendell Wilkins.

 

Hermione had been the one to organise flights the day before, using a phone box in the nearest village, with Draco standing outside with his wand tucked up his sleeve, and Andromeda standing a few metres away, pretending to admire the different flower bouquets in front of the florist’s shop. She had booked two tickets to Australia for them, to leave on the sixteenth of June. Gone was the money she had been saving ever since she’d been old enough to receive pocket money. Now brought with it was the slight peace of mind that her mum and dad would be safe.

 

She turned her head to look out the back window of the car to see another taxi following which contained Remus, Arthur and Tonks. Mad-Eye had told them that he would meet them all in the terminal. She understood that they were all there for physical support rather than moral, as if any Death Eater had knowledge of their plans, or knowledge that Draco was with them, having two skilled Aurors and two other skilled and knowledgeable wizards there would work out much better than if she were to go to the airport herself, or only with Draco.

 

“How am I going to do this?” She whispered to Draco as she watched the sign to Heathrow Airport pass by and they approached the expanse of the building.

 

“You’re going to do it perfectly. Just like you’ve been thinking about it,” Draco told her. “You’ll be fine, and I’ll be close by. So will everyone else.”

 

His words didn’t do much to soothe her, but the kiss he pressed to her forehead let her close her eyes for a brief moment and try to  _ forget _ .

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you see them?” Draco whispered to her as they stood near the small cafe in the corner of the terminal.

 

Hermione couldn’t speak. Her throat was dry and seemed to have clogged up. She only nodded, as she could see her parents in the waiting area. Oblivious to the fact that their only daughter was standing feet away.

 

“We’re all here,” Draco said to her. “Just remember. We’ll always be able to see you… Just in case something happens.”

 

She nodded again, unable to find words or use her vocal chords. Draco gave her a soft smile which only gave her a single jolt of confidence, and she turned away from him and slowly walked to them. She wanted so badly to sit next to them, to pretend that everything was normal, and to speak with them how they would normally speak. She hadn’t seen them since she’d said goodbye to them the year before on September first when she had boarded the train for sixth year. She managed to walk to the waiting area without stumbling over her feet, as her legs felt like jelly, and she took a seat.

 

They were right there… Sitting right across from her. Her mother with a book in her hands (a book Hermione recognised), and her father with the newspaper in his. If they weren't in this environment, Hermione would think it was just another day. She'd sat on the seat opposite her parents, and was convincing herself to work up the courage to speak to them. She didn't have long until they were to board their flight, and she knew Mad-Eye would be keeping a wary and impatient eye on the time wherever he was hiding. She glanced behind her and her eyes scanned the area. She spotted Draco standing by the cafe area, leaning against a pillar with a magazine in his hands. He wasn't looking at it though; no, he was staring right at her, and tilted his head down slightly when he caught her eye. He knew she could do it… She knew she could do it too… 

 

“That’s a really good book,” Hermione said, her voice shaking with nerves. 

 

Her mother looked up with a curious look on her face before giving Hermione a polite smile. It tore at her heart seeing her mother look at her with such confusion, with complete ignorance to who she was. She didn’t know her own daughter, _and it’s_ my _fault_ , Hermione thought bitterly.

 

“I’ve only just started,” her mother replied, showing Hermione what page she was on.

 

Hermione gave her a smile and hoped it wasn’t too tight and forced. The last thing she wanted to be doing right then was smiling. “I think you’ll like the ending,” she said, her voice fading quietly with every word she spoke.

 

Her mother gave her a small nod and another polite smile before looking back down at her book. Hermione’s mind was screaming for her to  _ say _ something, this was the last time she’d see her parents, so she had to at least make the most of the short time she had with them in the arrival gate. Just as she was preparing another thing to say -- useless small talk, but at least she would hear their voices --, her mother looked up once more. “Are you okay, love?” She asked and for a second, Hermione thought that her mother’s memory had been restored… “You look a bit pale. Are you nervous for the flight?”

 

Hermione fumbled on the words she had been about to say, and she clutched at the fabric of her jeans just to stop her hands from shaking. “Y-Yes,” she said, unconvincing. “I'm fine. The waiting always makes me a bit nervous, is all,” she lied. Flying in planes didn't terrify her at all, not that she would be doing that today, but sending her parents off on one, to fly to the other side of the world (literally), was beyond terrifying.

 

It surprised her when her father leaned over with a kind smile. She hadn’t expected him to talk to her, as he wasn’t the kind of person that would involve himself in small talk with strangers, not like her mother… And that was what she was to them… A stranger. “You should get yourself some tea from that cafe over there,” he said and gestured behind her to the cafe where Hermione knew Draco was still standing. “Tea always calms the nerves.”

 

She smiled at that, and her throat tightened at the statement. That was one of her dad’s most common phrases. Tea was the solution to everything, for him. Maybe that’s why her first thought in her and Draco’s Room in Hogwart was the summon tea when they were experiencing tough times. “I think I might,” she replied and he gave her a smile and sat back, resuming his reading. The familiarity of hearing her dad speak, and just being able to see them both was enough to help her relax back into her chair.

 

Neither of them were looking at her, but looking down to read, but she didn’t mind. This was perfect. She could pretend that they were all just going on a holiday together, like they did so often during the school holidays. She could pretend they were all going to Switzerland to ski, or Spain to lay out on the beach. Her fantasies were cut short abruptly when she spotted a larger figure walk close by the waiting area. She glanced over and saw Mad-Eye slowly walking, and she could tell that the magical eye he had concealed under an eye patch was staring right at her. He discretely tapped one finger to his wrist and then kept walking in the direction that Draco was standing.

 

Hermione’s heart started to beat faster once more as she realised that she was going to have to leave sooner rather than later. An announcement came over the speaker, saying that the flight would be ready to board in ten minutes. She clenched her hands into fists on her thighs, willing herself to stop shaking. This was it. This was the last moment she could say anything to her parents for...she didn’t know how long. She had to tell them everything that she needed to. She wanted to pretend that things were normal again.

 

“I’m really proud of how I did in school this year,” she said, her voice shaking even more so than before. Both of her parents looked up at her, her mother with a little more concern from the state of her voice.

 

“That’s...good,” her mum said politely with a smile. Hermione could only guess how absurd they would be finding this. They would be wondering why a strange girl was talking with them about such strange things.

 

“I’ve met someone, too,” Hermione said before she could help herself, and she saw her dad look at his newspaper properly, but her mum lowered her book slightly. “I’ve fallen in love for the first time,” she said, and her throat started to feel tight. “It’s… It’s terrifying. But I know he loves me too, and I’m glad we have each other for what’s going to be happening.”

 

She knew that her mother was confused, but the older woman still gave her a kind smile. “That’s lovely to hear,” she said. “I hope the both of you are very happy together.”

 

“We are,” Hermione nodded and tried her best to smile. She knew that if things were different her mum would be so happy for her and Hermione would be so excited to tell her. Now, the woman before her didn’t know who she was, or why she was indulging her in this information. “I-I’m sorry,” Hermione apologised and stood up quickly. “I… Enjoy your flight,” she said, and looked away from them. She didn’t want her lasting memory of them to be of their confusion and worry, seeing clearly that they  _ didn’t know her  _ one bit. “Be safe,” was her parting words before she turned and walked away and tears fell from her eyes without her even noticing.

 

She ignored the people around her, and they ignored her too. She walked quickly, her feet thudding on the stark white flooring, and she looked forward through blurry vision and saw him up ahead. Draco was standing tall and stiff, his own worry evident as he took a step towards her. Hermione’s speed changed from a walk to a run, and before she knew it, she’d hit his chest and wrapped her arms tightly around him as she released a loud sob against his shirt. Draco’s hands instantly wound their way around her back, holding her close to his chest, and he began to murmur things to her that she couldn’t understand as she wasn’t focusing on anything but her pain.

 

She didn’t know when Moody and Tonks arrived, the latter placing her hand on Hermione’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. She didn’t remember Moody telling them that they had to go then. All she did remember was how tightly Draco held her, how he kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked from the terminal. She ignored the stares she was receiving from everyone else, and she didn’t hear the concerned question from a security guard who asked if she was alright. Moody had answered for her, and the next thing she knew, they were outside at the taxi waiting area.

 

The bright day outside did nothing to improve her mood. The sun beating down did nothing to warm her. And even Draco’s arm around her was starting to feel like it wasn’t enough...

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

The taxi ride away from Heathrow Airport was even quieter than the journey getting there had been. On the way there, Draco had asked the odd question as he thought of them, or Hermione would assure him that the taxi was safe, and more often than not, he would assure her that everything would work out fine with her parents. And while everything _ did _ work out perfectly with her parents -- in the sense that the laid-down plans weren’t intercepted by Death Eaters --, that didn’t mean happiness for Hermione.

 

He knew something was wrong when after they got in the car, she stayed completely on her side of the seat, leaning against the door and staring out of the window. He’d never seen her eyes look so empty before. He’d seen her upset, angry, full of joy and happiness, and every other emotion under the sun, and her eyes  _ always _ had that familiar spark in them. However, right then after sending her parents into the unknown, he couldn’t see any trace of  _ her _ when he looked her in the eye. She didn’t reach for his hand either, something that worried him more than he cared to admit. Hermione was usually very hands-on. When something went wrong, or when something great happened, she would be the first to reach out and touch. In his moments of weakness, her hands never strayed from his own, or his arms or shoulders. So for her to sit so far from him, and not reach out once, made it sink in even more so that she was struggling.

 

It was only cruel fate that Draco could sympathise with her to some extent. He knew what it felt like to lose a parent in a way beyond his own control, but  _ know _ that parent was still alive somewhere. He’d felt so lost when his father had been taken to Azkaban. And now he lived in constant fear over his mother’s whereabouts. He knew she was alive somewhere, but he didn’t know where, or if she was in immediate danger, or if she was already hurt or had something terrible inflicted on her. He hated to think about it, but those thoughts were the ones that plagued him the most in the moments of silence.

 

Moments quite like the one he was currently sit in, but instead of thinking of his own parents, Draco’s thoughts were only on Hermione. He looked away from his window, away from the view of Muggle London rushing past before his very eyes, and glanced over to Hermione. She had rest the side of her head against the window, and her eyes were closed. He could see wetness on her cheeks, and watched as a fresh tear escaped from the corner of her eye and slid down to her chin. “Hermione…” He murmured quietly, and reached across the space between them to place his hand over hers.

 

She opened her eyes quickly and jolted slightly, as if she had forgotten where they were, but as soon as their eyes met, she broke down once more, just as bad as she had in the airport terminal. He unbuckled himself from the seatbelt and slid into the middle of the back seat to be closer to her, and she turned her whole body towards him to bury her head into his shoulder.

 

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and held her close, and soon after, she lifted her legs off the floor and he held them too, over his thighs so he was cradling her as close to his front as he could. He didn’t know what to say, and only thought that holding her tight would hopefully be enough to help her calm down. “Everything will be alright,” he ended up saying minutes later, his hand brushing against her hair as he tried to soothe her.

 

That only seemed to spur on a new wave of tears and her fingers curled tightly into his shirt and he felt her try and get closer and closer, so he only held her tighter. It killed him to know there was nothing he could reasonably say or do to make things better for her other than bring her parents back and ensure their safety...which was an entirely unrealistic thing to even think of doing. Her parents would be safe in Australia with no knowledge of her or her life, away from the violence that he knew was soon to ensue in the United Kingdom. While he could see the reasonable side of the suggestion to send her parents away, it wasn’t that easy for her. And he wasn’t sure whether having her say her own form of goodbyes would be good for her in the long run and for the process of her healing and trying to move on from this incident.

 

“W-We’re finding t-them when this is over,” Hermione stammered out through her tears, a sob choking her up even more.

 

Draco nodded and pressed his lips to her forehead. “We will,” he agreed, and placed his fingers on her chin to make her look up from his chest. Her eyes were red, puffy and brimming with tears, and he wanted nothing more than to take her pain away. “That’s my promise to you, because I don’t make enough for you,” he said. “We’ll get them back. And everything will be fine.”

 

She nodded once and then pushed her head back down to his chest and he could feel the wet patch where her tears continued to flow. It was a long taxi ride back, and he didn’t loosen his grip on her once. She didn’t uncurl her fingers from his shirt once, nor did she move away from his chest at all. Back at Andromeda’s house, his aunt and uncle were there waiting for their arrival, and Ted was the one to help Draco lift Hermione from the car.

 

She whispered to him that she wanted to go to bed, and Draco nodded and held her tightly as he carried her to the house, following Andromeda and Ted. He’d do anything for her. And his first order of business was making her feel whole again.


	34. Blocked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me! oeuvre24 is uploading on FF.Net as well
> 
> This chapter is primarily from Draco's perspective. For the last scene of this chapter, we recommend listening to I Found by Amber Run as you read. 
> 
> As always, thank you for the love and comments :) We truly appreciate them and love hearing from you guys every week! We hope you enjoy!

 

Draco could hardly believe that it had been two weeks since the night of the Astronomy Tower. Two weeks since he stood facing Albus Dumbledore with his wand shaking furiously in his unsteady hand. Two weeks since he had been shoved aside by Snape, and watched his Headmaster fall from the great height of the Astronomy Tower. The images were still stained his mind; of course they would probably be permanently burnt into his brain forever. He shook his head and leaned back against the wall, drawing his knees to his chest. 

 

After the tower, when he and Hermione had first arrived in her parents house, he thought for a split second that maybe,  _ maybe  _ that would be when everything would start to look up; to change for the better. He was with Hermione, and he wanted to be a part of the Order, but that slim glimmer of hope he’d had that they were starting to be alright, had been crushed the moment Hermione crashed into his arms at the airport. She was far from alright, and until she was back to her usual self, nothing would seem right… Normal. He just couldn’t see how things were going to start looking up when his girlfriend was isolating herself. 

 

Ever since they had returned from the airport the previous day, Hermione had kept herself locked in the guest bedroom. She’d refused to see him, and had only let his Aunt enter. Almost as if on cue, he heard footsteps, and for a split second he thought that just  _ maybe  _ it was Hermione unlocking the bedroom door to finally let him in, but after listening more closely, his hope fell and he let out a frustrated sigh. It was only his Aunt, coming to check on Hermione. Normally, this would have bothered him. He  _ wanted  _ to be there for Hermione when she needed him, but at least she was allowing someone to keep an eye on her. Still, his heart ached and he hadn’t moved from outside their bedroom door. 

 

“Still here, are you?” his Aunt asked, an amused smile on her lips, distracting from the sadness in her eyes. But Draco didn’t miss it. 

 

He swallowed, his throat dry. He nodded firmly. “I’ve told you I’m not moving. I’ll be here when she’s ready.” 

 

Andromeda let out a soft sigh and rustled his hair gently. He tensed at her touch but didn’t pull away. Finally, his Aunt turned the doorknob and entered Hermione’s room. Draco let his head fall back against the wall, his chest tight and his eyes watery. All he could hear were muffled voices and not a moment later, his Aunt returned from the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her.

 

Draco looked up hopefully, burning to hear the words he’d been waiting for since Hermione first locked herself away, but Andromeda shut her eyes and shook her head slowly. His head fell forward and he sighed. The lump in his throat was growing bigger and his eyes were starting to burn from blinking back the tears. His Aunt bent down and laid a hand on his shoulder, but he kept his gaze on his lap. “I’m sorry, Draco,” she said softly. “We shouldn’t force her, she’ll come around on her own.” 

 

He nodded, knowing and hating that his Aunt was right, but it wasn’t easy for him; he didn’t share the same level of patience as Hermione, and clearly, his Aunt. How many times had Hermione given him the space he needed when they were at Hogwarts? How many times had she been patient with him? He should be giving the same to her. Was this how she had felt all those times he’d continued to push her away? Did she have the same pang in her chest when she had tried to get him to open up or even just  _ be  _ with him and he’d declined? Exactly  _ how much  _ hurt had he put her through this year? 

 

It was that very last thought that taunted him as the early hours of the night set in, and he prepared himself for another night outside her door. 

 

* * *

 

“Hermione?” he whispered into the darkness of the hall. He had no idea how late it was. The light was on under the door, but he hadn’t the faintest idea if she was awake or not. He didn’t care. He’d spent the rest of the day right outside her door, only leaving to use the restroom. His Aunt had brought him lunch and dinner on a tray, bringing it along with Hermione’s. 

 

Not that he was expecting a reply, but the lack of one still disappointed him. “If you’re awake, you don’t have to tell me. You’re not ready yet,” he paused. “And that’s fine. I’m just going to talk for a while...if that’s okay.” When there was no response, he kept on. “Andromeda likes you. She thinks you’re good for me, I think,” he paused. “I think so, too. She told me that it’s just going to be us here for a while, as far as she knows. She says that could change but…” He trailed off; he wasn’t good at this sort of thing -- cheering people up, being a source of comfort and optimism. This was all new territory for him. “I want to make each day count. I want to give you good days, because there’s a hell of alot worse coming than what’s already happened…

 

“That sounds bad, but I swear I don’t mean like that. Just... Fuck, we’re heading into a war and this entire school year has been  _ shit  _ and we’re going to be...mostly alone for what seems to be weeks and I just...” He stopped and clenched his jaw, his emotions boiling inside him like a cauldron with the heat too high. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Goodbyes are awful, and in a war, you never know when you’ll have to say goodbye. And believe me Granger, the last thing I want is to have do is say goodbye to you. But you never know…” His voice was soft, and tears were threatening to slip down his cheeks. “So this time that we’re going to have together? I want to give you what you deserve. I don’t know if I can do it… Sometimes I ask myself why you’ve stuck by me all this time, but I’m still going to try. Because...that’s what you do.” His voice cracked, and he didn’t even realize that tears had already started to fall. “You keep trying and trying… You don’t give up easily, Granger.” 

 

Draco stopped to gather himself. He felt like a fool, sitting on the hardwood floor in the middle of the night, crying. But she was shutting him out and he had no idea how to make her feel better. Not to mention he was a mess, himself. After he wiped away his tears and regained control of his breathing he said, “I never did thank you for everything you’ve done this year. You saved me, we both know you did. If it hadn’t been for you…” 

 

This time, he let his sentence trail off and remained silent. He didn’t know how long he sat there for, but as the seconds passed, his eyelids began to droop and his body felt heavy. He couldn’t keep his eyes open much longer. He was so tired...maybe he would just rest them for a few minutes. His eyelids shut, and within minutes he’d fallen asleep. His head slumped onto his shoulder, one leg outstretched in front of him. 

 

He didn’t stir when the door opened not long after; not even when a pair of big brown eyes peered out at his sleeping form before retreating back inside. 

 

* * *

 

“Draco,” a voice whispered softly, shaking him gently. He grumbled and shifted his body, but found that moving sent a sharp shooting pain up his spine. 

 

“Ah!” he gasped, clutching at his lower back as his eyes flew open. Draco looked up to see his Aunt standing over him. 

 

She had her eyebrows raised and a smirk on her lips. “Come on,” she said, extending a hand to help him up. “I’ll fix you breakfast.” 

 

Draco cast his eyes at the bedroom door. “But--”

 

“She’s asleep,” Andromeda interjected before he could finish. He hesitated for a moment, then took her hand and let her help hoist him up. She shot him a sympathetic smile and led him to the kitchen. He hadn’t really been alone with his Aunt that much, despite being there for a week or so now. The thought of having breakfast alone with her made him nervous. As much as he knew they probably needed to address the elephant in the room, he didn’t necessarily  _ want  _ to. 

 

The kitchen was empty and Draco couldn’t help but ask, “Where’s Ted?” 

 

Andromeda was shuffling around with a pan and fussing with the stove. “The Order’s keeping him quite busy at the moment.” 

 

Draco took the hint and said no more. He’d learned quickly that Order Members never revealed too much; even Hermione didn’t know a lot. He sat down at the table while his Aunt fixed them breakfast. Neither of them spoke as she watched over the eggs and put on a pot of coffee. His stomach grumbled as he caught a whiff of the sizzling sausages. He shifted in his chair and couldn’t help but groan as another sharp pain shot up his back. 

 

“Rough night?” Andromeda asked, looking over her shoulder as she fixed two plates. 

 

Draco laughed through his nose before letting out a yawn. “If you want to call it that,” he replied sleepily. 

 

His Aunt sat down across from him after setting his plate down in front of him. She handed him a mug of coffee and began buttering her own toast. Draco watched her out of the corner of his eye and noticed that she looked similar to his mother when she was thinking. The corners of her eyes were wrinkled and her lips were pressed into a thin line. It was when Draco looked down to grab a forkful of eggs that she spoke, “Hermione is a Muggleborn. Yes?” 

 

Draco nodded. He expected the conversation between he and his Aunt to be uncomfortable, but he had no idea where she was going with this and didn’t want to stick around to find out. But he knew he couldn’t bolt out of the kitchen right then. Andromeda smiled at him, her fork resting on her plate and her coffee in her hand. There were loose hairs that had fallen from her bun, now framing her face. Though she shared similar features to Bellatrix, she appeared softer; more welcoming and kind. “My parents are going to hate me, aren’t they?” he asked dully. 

 

At his words, Andromeda set down her mug and took a moment to wipe her mouth with her napkin.  “Your mother,” she said slowly, softly; as though this was painful to talk about. “Is an extraordinary woman. Out of everyone I’ve ever met, I’ve never met someone who hides their true feelings so well.” 

 

He had no idea where his Aunt was going with this, but he too set down his cutlery and gave his Aunt his full attention. “Deep down, I knew she was happy for me when I had met Ted. Your mother and I were quite close, in our younger years...and I had found everything I ever wanted in Ted. Someone who loved me. She didn’t fully understand, of course. She had met Lucius and was convinced that I too, could find a Pureblood man who loved me like Ted did. But I refused, and it was then that she knew.” When she saw that Draco didn’t fully comprehend, she continued. “I think, that if your mother sees how happy you are with Hermione, she’ll understand. Even if it takes a while.” 

 

Draco knew his Aunt had meant well. So maybe his mother  _ had _ understood that her sister really was in love with Ted, but they hadn’t talked since (save the letter his mum had sent her after his birth). Would he too, be forced to live his life with an estranged relationship from his parents? Assuming all three of them made it out of this alive. His stomach churned at the thought and he pushed away his plate. “Thanks for breakfast,” he mumbled before standing from his seat and practically bolting from the kitchen and out the front door. 

 

The early morning air was crisp and chilly, the slight breeze slapping his cheeks. He didn’t care that he didn’t have a jumper with him; he felt sick and only needed silence. He just needed to think. He walked over to the pond on his Aunt’s property and sat down in the grass. If he were to be honest with himself, all thoughts of what his parents would think about his relationship with Hermione hadn’t come to him yet. He’d been preoccupied with more urgent matters at the time, but now that the seed of fear had been planted, it was growing. By no means did he want to leave Hermione. How could he even think of abandoning her after everything they’d been through? Not that he wanted to, because he  _ didn’t  _ \-- not in the slightest -- but he knew it wouldn’t go over well with his parents, and he had no idea how he was going to deal with  _ that.  _ Not a single clue. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione didn’t come out of her room once that day. Andromeda had brought her breakfast after she had finished her own, and Draco returned to his position outside her door. His Aunt brought them both lunch around midday, going into the bedroom to give Hermione her plate, and shot him an apologetic smile on her way out. He hadn’t talked to his Aunt since breakfast, and he was perfectly content with sitting on the hard floor all day if it meant not approaching their previous conversation. The afternoon ticked by slowly and he couldn’t hear any movement inside his and Hermione’s room, and around mid afternoon he had half a mind to ask his Aunt to check that Hermione hadn’t left through the window. It wasn’t long after this thought flitted across his mind that he heard sobs drift under the door. His eyes fell shut and he sighed. _At least she hasn’t left_ , he thought bitterly. Evening had eventually rolled around and his back was growing stiffer and he’d counted the floorboards four times already, so when his Aunt came round with Hermione’s dinner tray and asked him to join her in the kitchen, he obliged. 

 

Ted, Draco noticed, wasn’t home yet; something he was thankful for. It wasn’t that Draco didn’t like Ted, it was just that things were still a bit awkward between the two of them and he preferred not to talk about that morning’s conversation in front of him. His stomach rumbled as he sat down at the table and his Aunt placed down a bowl of stew in front of him. Only after Andromeda sat down, did she speak. “Draco, about this morning--”

 

“It’s fine,” he found himself saying, his fists clenched at his sides. “You were--you were just trying to help.” 

 

Andromeda’s expression softened; she nodded solemnly and ate a spoonful of her own stew. The silence between them was thick, palpable, and Draco wished he could be anywhere else but there. “Draco,” Andromeda called softly from the other side of the table. When he looked up at her, he a saw defiant sparkle in her eyes. She’d drawn herself up to full height and her face was now hard as stone. “The only thing that truly matters is that you’re happy. Regardless of how others feel...or what they think.” 

 

He took a few more bites of his stew and let what his Aunt had said process. “I love Hermione,” he said quietly. “But I don’t want to lose my parents either. My mother didn’t talk to you after my grandparents disowned you. How do I know--” 

 

“You need to ask yourself,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Which is more important to you. The love you and Hermione share, or staying in the Malfoy family. I’m not saying that’s what it will come down to,” she went on more calmly now. “Draco, as you know now, I was faced with this same decision. And I’ve never once regretted it”

 

“You haven’t?” he asked, looking up at her in wonder. 

 

She shook her head. “It saddens me that I lost contact with my sisters. But I have a wonderful life, Draco. My husband loves me. We have a beautiful daughter that I couldn’t be more proud of. I’m  _ happy.”  _

 

The two finished their meal in silence, aside from the compliment Draco offered her about the stew and when they were done, Andromeda cleared the table with a flick of her wand. He’d offered to help clean up, but she’d shaken her head and smiled. “Household charms are my speciality,” she said with a wink. 

 

* * *

 

After he and his Aunt finished dinner, Draco returned to his post outside Hermione’s bedroom. Her light was off and he thought she must be asleep, until he heard the faint sound of crying echoing from her room. He sighed and rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. “Granger,” he said gruffly. “Let me in.” 

 

The sobs continued and he could hear no trace of footsteps. He let out a growl of frustration and let his head fall back to rest against the wall.  _ She’ll come out when she’s ready,  _ his Aunt’s words echoed in his mind. Her sobs continued.  _ When is she going to be ready?  _ A voice said in his mind.. He listened as she continued to cry, and he was still there when her sobs had slowly ceased. Night was falling again, and much as he craved a bed, the thought of Hermione coming out to let him in, and him not being there made his heart ache. So he settled himself against the wall, listening to the faint sounds of his Aunt and Uncle’s conversation. The harder he concentrated on the two voices however, the quicker he started to realize that wasn’t Ted’s voice. It was deeper, gruffer. Before Draco realized what he was doing, he began to walk down the stairs towards the living room. 

 

As he rounded the corner, he could see Mad-Eye Moody standing in his Aunt’s living room. Draco groaned inwardly as he now had no other option than to join the two; Mad-Eye had looked at him with his magical blue eye. The elder wizard paused mid-sentence, his lips twitched upwards and he nodded at Draco. Andromeda whirled around to look at him, her eyes wide and… Was she shaking slightly? 

 

“Draco!” she gasped. “I didn’t know you were-- It’s excellent news, really--”

 

“We found your parents,” Moody growled, leaning on his staff for support. “It’s a good thing Snape contacted your mother practically straight away. Tipped her off about where you’d gone. Your parents fled to one of their spare homes. France, I think it was.”

 

Draco’s mind was reeling. His heart was pounding and it felt like the room was spinning. “My parents are safe?” he finally managed to get out. “Both of them?” He couldn’t believe this. His mother and father had managed to get out in time...Voldemort hadn’t gotten to them. They were  _ alive.  _

 

Mad-Eye nodded and surveyed Draco, his magical eye spinning in its socket. “We’re keeping them at a safe house for now. Until we’re sure they want to defect. Aurors have the place surrounded.” 

 

Just as his heart had swelled with hope, it deflated quickly at these words. “Can’t I see them?” he asked rather angrily. 

 

The Auror shook his head and said in his gruff voice, “Not yet anyway.” Moody turned to look at Andromeda and added, “I need to be off. One of us will keep in touch.” 

 

Andromeda nodded and showed Mad-Eye to the door, thanking him over and over again before he stepped out into the night and disappeared. Draco stood in the middle of the small living room, his Aunt pressed against the door, faint whispers coming from her lips. His heart was still pounding and he was trying to make sense of everything that had just happened in the past minute. Relieving though it was to hear that his parents were now safe and sound, he didn’t like that he wasn’t able to see them sooner. What did Moody mean by ‘ _ until we’re sure they want to defect’ _ ? How difficult was it? Couldn’t it be a simple matter of interviewing, much like Kingsley had done to him. Though he doubted his parents would be able to get away with rejecting to take the Veritaserum; or his father at least. 

 

When Draco stopped staring at the wall, the sound of a sob breaking him from his thoughts, he saw his Aunt perching on the edge of an armchair with her hands over her face. Though his stomach was twisted into knots and he felt entirely uncomfortable doing so, Draco walked over to where his Aunt sat and placed a hand on her shoulder. All he could hear were five muffled words. “I’m glad she’s not dead.” 

 

_ Me too,  _ he thought. 

 

* * *

 

Draco found it hard to fall asleep that night, but it had nothing to do with the stiffness in his back or the hardness of the floor against his bum. No. Tonight he couldn’t help himself from wondering where his parents were. Were they close? Who were they staying with? Were the Aurors doing their duty and standing their guard? How long would it be before he  _ could  _ see his parents? 

 

His thoughts swirled around endlessly as he sat there, simultaneously waiting and hoping that Hermione would open the door. All he craved at that moment as sleep was slowly creeping up on him and his eyelids would no longer stay open, was to wrap Hermione in his arms and hold her close as he drifted off to sleep. The minutes continued to tick by, her door remained shut and some time later, he was once again slumped against the wall with his eyes shut and his head resting on his shoulder. It was with visions of his parents embracing him dancing in his head that he allowed himself to be carried off to sleep... 

 

Voldemort was laughing, high-pitched and bone chilling… His parents were kneeling at his feet… Draco watched as his father cried,  _ begged  _ Voldemort to spare their lives… Dead Aurors were littered around them...The Dark Lord slowly raised his wand and-- Draco was now standing at the top of the Astronomy Tower and Dumbledore’s body was falling...falling into the blackness, while he watched helplessly… He was surrounded by darkness, only a dimly lit path in front of him… There was a figure walking away from him, growing smaller… He bolted into a run, screaming after them, “Wait!” At first he wasn’t sure he was getting closer, but the figure started to get bigger; he was getting near, and he could make out a head of big, bushy hair…

 

“Hermione!” he called, as he continued to run, trying to catch up to her...but she was getting further away now...growing smaller...and the light, already dim, was fading…“Hermione!” 

 

“Draco!” a familiar voice shouted. “Draco!” He felt a tight hand on his shoulder and his body wouldn’t stop shaking. His eyes snapped open to see Andromeda standing over him with a worried expression on her face. “Are you alright?”

 

He brought a hand up to his forehead to push his hair away, and felt slick, cold sweat cover his palm. Andromeda’s brows were furrowed and he could see clearly the thin lines that started to appear around her mouth when she frowned. “B-bad dream,” he muttered, suddenly feeling foolish and attempting to stand up. 

 

His Aunt lent her arm which he held onto so he could stand properly. He felt slightly ill and his body was still shaking slightly. “I have to leave for a few hours,” she told him firmly. “You should go lie down and then get something to eat.”

 

He nodded, only half-listening to what she was saying. He didn’t feel tired now. He felt wide awake. He didn’t want to go to sleep. He didn’t want to have nightmares again. “Right,” he said. “Okay.” Andromeda cast him one more worrying look before retreating down the hall towards the stairs and soon after he heard the soft click of the door. 

 

For a moment, he considered knocking on Hermione’s door, but judging by the faint orange and pink glow illuminating his limited view of the bathroom window, it was quite early and she was probably asleep. The house was quiet, and the stillness left an unsettling feeling in his stomach. Before he could stop himself, his feet were carrying him down the hall, toward a staircase that would take him to the next floor. He hadn’t seen much of Andromeda’s house; in fact, he’d only been in less than a handful of rooms since their arrival. The halls were lined with framed pictures and other odd knickknacks. He stopped when one in particular caught his eye. Andromeda was dancing with Ted in a slow circle, her arms around his neck and his hands around her waist. Her dress, he noticed, was white and her hair was up in an elegant twist.  _ This must be her wedding day,  _ he thought to himself as he watched Ted murmur something to her and Andromeda throw her head back slightly, her eyes crinkled, and laugh. Draco stood there, watching the two of them dance. He noticed the way Ted looked at his Aunt...his face glowing with joy, his eyes filled with adoration. He caught a little smile Andromeda gave Ted as they danced, merely gazing at one another. They looked so content, so happy. 

 

Draco continued on down the hall, catching glimpses of photographs as he passed. Andromeda and a teenage girl with dark purple hair splashing one another by the pond, Ted dozing with a newborn on his chest. The three of them hunched over the kitchen table, a cake with candles aflame and a little girl with brown hair resembling her mother’s clapping her hands excitedly. Finally, he approached a door at the end of the hall. Not knowing what was inside, he turned the knob and peered in. There wasn’t much; a bed big enough for two stood parallel to him, a dresser had been perched by another door with a mirror hanging above and there was a smaller table beside the bed. The walls, he noted, were decorated with more framed photographs and various works of art.  _ This must be Andromeda and Ted’s room,  _ he thought to himself. With a soft click, he shut the door again and wandered back down the hall from where he came. 

 

When he arrived back at the floor he and Hermione were staying on, he paused by the bathroom door. He should shower, now that he thought about it; he couldn’t remember showering over the past few days. His stomach grumbled loudly.  _ Breakfast first,  _ he told himself. A shower could wait. The stairs creaked with every step he took. The ground floor was illuminated by the orange glow of the early morning sun and all was silent. It was only when he got to the kitchen and stood in front of the pantry, that he realized he had no idea how to cook with or without magic. House elves had always done the cooking, and he’d never been taught. Draco resigned himself to having a bowl of cereal and reminded himself to ask Hermione to teach him how to cook, even if it was the Muggle way. 

 

After rinsing out his bowl and spoon (he felt guilty leaving his dishes in the otherwise empty sink), he headed off for the shower. Andromeda had taken some of his clothes that she’d bought for him out of the bedroom he was sharing with Hermione, and put them in a spare room just two doors down. His clothes and a towel in hand, he shut the bathroom door behind him and turned on the taps. He peeled off his clothes, tossed them aside and stepped under the stream of hot water. His skin prickled at first, but his muscles were relaxing and  _ damn  _ did it feel good on his aching back. Draco ran his fingers through his hair, letting the water soak the silky, blonde strands. As the hot water trickled across and down his skin, he allowed his eyes to drift shut as he stood directly under the shower head. It felt as though the past few days were being washed away, swirling down the drain with the suds and water. 

 

He lingered too long in the steam filled shower, but no one was home to bother him so he allowed himself a few stolen minutes of peace before shutting off the tap, and then wrapped a towel around his waist. He dressed quickly after drying off, not facing the mirror so he didn’t have to see the scars splattered across his torso or the ugly, inky black tattoo on his left arm for a second longer. For once, his head felt clear, light. He couldn’t remember the last time he could think properly, without his thoughts running amok. He ran the towel through his hair and settled on using his fingers to comb it out as he made his way to the living room, not knowing what he was going to do now. He had no desire to go to sleep, and the living room didn’t offer much entertainment other than books, and he didn’t feel like reading. Reading reminded him of Hermione, who was currently shutting herself from the world. 

 

If he’d had his broom, he could perhaps chance a fly around his Aunt’s property. But his broom was at Hogwarts, and it seemed Andromeda and Ted didn’t have any lying around. So he took to wandering the house again, as at least this kept his mind occupied. Draco travelled up the flight of stairs to the first floor and immediately took the next set to the second floor, this time turning right instead of left towards his Aunt’s bedroom. Not long after he began to walk down the hallway, he saw a door on his right, partially open. From the sliver of the room that was exposed, he could see the sleek, black piano occupying it. He glanced around, as though to make sure no one had come home right that second, before entering the room and shutting the door behind him. Sunlight was gleaming through the windows, which he noticed covered almost the entire wall opposite the door, providing an excellent view of the hills keeping them hidden. 

 

There wasn’t much else in the room aside from the piano; two arm chairs were perched closer to the windows at the far end of the room, along with a lone bookcase. Draco noticed the crisp, white curtains pushed aside at the ends of the windows and hurried to pull them shut. Even if there were wards around the place, he didn’t like the feeling of being so exposed. He sat down at the piano and shuffled through the few pieces of slightly faded sheet music. How long had it been since anyone played any of these? It had been years since he’d played piano, since before he’d left for Hogwarts in his first year, and it was that reason alone that he chose the least complicated of the four pieces of sheet music and put his fingers into place. His movements were slow at first; the notes were a bit hard to read and his fingers felt stiff and heavy pressing on the dusty keys. Once got the hang of his movements again, and squinted just right to see the notes well, the music started to flow easily. 

 

Draco had no idea how long he sat there on that bench, letting his mind empty as he listened to the music he was producing. He was still rusty and messed up once or twice, but considering how long it had been, he impressed himself. When he finished the song the first time, he started over. With every time he played, he found himself glancing at the sheet less and less. He hadn’t felt this free and content since...he couldn’t remember when. 

 

“You’re not bad,” an amused voice said from the doorway making Draco jump and his fingers slam down on the keys. Draco whirled around to see Ted leaning against the doorframe, a smile on his lips. “Your mum taught you?” Draco nodded. He swallowed, his throat dry. Ted chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. He sighed. “Your Aunt knows how to play too. All three of them did, I suspect. I bought her this for our tenth anniversary. She hadn’t played piano for years before then.” 

 

He hadn’t the faintest idea what to say this. His palms were growing sweaty by the second. He hadn’t a conversation alone with Ted before. But then, a question sprung to his mind and rushed out his lips before he could stop them. “What was it like?” Ted cocked his head in confusion, and so Draco elaborated, though rather reluctantly. “When my grandparents found out what my Aunt had done?” 

 

Ted winced and looked as though it were a struggle to find the words. “Well,” he began, rubbing his head in thought. “It wasn’t pleasant, I’ll tell you that. They’d disowned her, and that was...hard to see her cope with. She was in a right state over it, mind you. But she told me she stood by her choice; by me. She was terribly upset, but not regretful. After that...it was quiet. The Daily Prophet had kept quiet; I expect her parents pulled some strings to keep it out of the papers. And we moved on the best we could at the time.” 

 

Draco, who had been listening intently to every word, felt his stomach sink horribly. 

 

* * *

 

After Ted had arrived back home, Draco went back to his spot outside Hermione’s door and sighed heavily. Once again, his chest felt heavy and his mind felt clogged. Relieved though he was that his parents were both safe from the Dark Lord’s wrath, a great part of him now had no desire to see them, yet deep down, it was all he desperately wanted. There was no way his parents were going be pleased once they found out his girlfriend was none other than Hermione Granger. And he simply did not want to have to deal with the confrontation that would come. 

 

It must have been hours before he heard the door open again and Andromeda greet her husband lovingly. Draco groaned and let his head fall back against the wall. Their voices faded. He welcomed the silence with a small sigh. His stomach grumbled and he realized it must have been hours by now since he’d eaten breakfast. As though his Aunt could sense this, she came striding down the hall, looking tired but content all the same, with two trays in her hands. “Did you sleep?” she asked, upon handing him his lunch. 

 

Draco shook his head. “I couldn’t,” he admitted. 

 

Andromeda sighed and shook her head. “You look better now, but you still need to rest.” With that, she knocked on Hermione’s door and entered. Draco heard them exchange greetings before their voices were muffled as the door shut. 

 

He stared down at the sandwiches she had brought him. She’d brought him a bowl of fruit pieces and a glass of pumpkin juice as well. He picked up the bowl first, and munched on a slice of honeydew. Andromeda came out of their bedroom and stopped when she was standing in front of him. To his surprise, she slid down so she was sitting against the wall opposite him. “Ted told me you know how to play piano?” she said hopefully. 

 

“Yeah,” he answered. “Mum taught me when I was five.” 

 

Andromeda raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed. “Really?” she said quickly. “I didn’t start until I was nearly eight.” 

 

He picked up a slice of pineapple and swallowed it before answering. “When did my mother start playing?” 

 

His Aunt smiled softly and let out a chuckle. She played with the sleeves of her dress. “Not long after she turned six,” she said a laugh and a shake of her head. “She was quite eager to start learning.” 

 

Draco let out an involuntary snort, a sandwich in one hand. Andromeda said nothing more about the subject. He was determined to continue eating his lunch; the last thing he wanted at the moment, was for Andromeda to bring up the  _ other  _ topic of his conversation with Ted. But either Ted hadn’t told his Aunt about that part, or Andromeda was choosing not to bring up, because to his surprise, she had stood up, brushed off her dress and told him once more that he should get some rest soon. 

 

Exhaustion had started to creep in not long after he finished his lunch. He didn’t budge at first, determined to fight it off. If he could make it through the day, he could just sleep that night. But it was only mid-afternoon, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could fight it. His lower back was now positively radiating with pain; he hadn’t slept on an actual bed in  _ days.  _ Draco glanced at the locked bedroom door, his teeth on his bottom lip as he weighed the two options. Stay and possibly fall asleep on the hard floor again, or go to a spare bedroom close by the one he was supposed to be sharing with Hermione and  _ maybe  _ get a few hours decent sleep? 

 

With a long, drawn-out sigh and a groan as he stood up, he decided on the bed. There was an empty room right next to the one Hermione was holed up in, and if she happened to decide that she was ready to come out of her room, he would be right next door. The bed in this room was far lumpier than the one in their room, and the pillow was practically flattened. No matter how many times he scrunched it or fluffed it, it remained stiff. As his eyes started to drift shut and he shifted his body once more, he thought of stuffing the pillow with mattress stuffing, but that was far as he got to adjusting his pillow, for once the blanket was drawn up to his chin and his mind was quiet once more, he found it hard to resist the slumber that was calling him. 

 

* * *

 

What woke him, Draco wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he was laying in bed, eyes snapped open, staring at the clock on the bedside table that read half-past two. A glance out the window to the inky black sky twinkling with stars told him he’d slept through the rest of the afternoon and straight through dinner. His back still ached, but instead of the burning, radiating pain, it’d reduced itself to a dull throbbing. Draco rolled onto his back, hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. The nap had served him well, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, even to himself. The only drawback however, was that his mind was on overdrive again and all the thoughts and fears that had been haunting him all day, were back at full force. 

Slowly, he slipped out of bed and pulled on his shoes. When he stepped out of the bedroom, he found the hallway dimly lit by oil lamps. All seemed quiet in the rest of the house. He ventured down the stairs to find that the living room and kitchen were empty.  _ Have Andromeda and Ted gone to bed?  _ He wondered.  _ Or maybe they’re out doing something for the Order.  _ There was no note indicating they had left, so he was left to assume they’d retired for the night. 

 

Draco sighed and stared around the dimly lit kitchen. His gaze fell to the window; the moon shining bright in the sky, the pond shimmering with its reflection and the trees as still as could be. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards at the sight. He turned around and strode off towards the back door. It was a surprisingly cool summer night and the air prickled at his skin as he walked through the grass and plopped down not far from the pond. He laid back, hands behind his head again and let out a long, deep breath. His eyes closed for a minute and he got caught up in the cool night air, the bugs chirping and the water lapping against the banks of the pond. It was peaceful out here -- quiet, calm -- the complete opposite of how he felt inside. 

 

So Draco did what he knew to do best. His pale grey eyes opened to the vast sky above him and he started picking out constellations one by one. 

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

Night had already fallen, and Andromeda and Ted had long since gone to bed. With a heavy sigh, Hermione slid off her bed and walked over to the door. She creaked it open just an inch or so, and her heart fell when she saw Draco was not there. She’d known that he’d practically planted himself outside the door these past few days. She felt guilty, of course. She’d locked herself away, and she’d gotten on at him about doing just that not long ago. But no amount of guilt could stop the disappointment that settled into her stomach. 

 

She walked over to her window and looked out at the dark yard. When her eyes fell upon a figure, lounging in the grass, her heart skipped a beat and a small gasp escaped her lips. What was Draco doing out there at this time of night? How  _ long  _ had he been out there? Her curiosity got the best of her, and before she knew it, she was slipping on her shoes and trekking out the bedroom door. The house was dimly lit and the floorboards creaked under her feet as she walked. It took her a minute or two to find the backdoor, but once she had, it was a short walk to where Draco lay. 

 

He mustn’t have heard her coming, as he lay unmoving in the grass. His legs were crossed at his ankles, his hands tucked under his head and from just a few inches behind him, she could see the rise and fall of his chest. Hoping that he hadn’t fallen asleep, Hermione laid down next to him on the cool grass, letting it tickle her exposed skin. “Hi,” she said softly. 

 

Draco jumped, his legs curling up towards his chest and a loud gasp escaped from his lips. When his gaze fell to her, she saw his expression soften from the initial anger of having his wits nearly scared out of him. Instead of greeting her as she had done, he slipped an arm under her head and around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. She inhaled deeply as she rest her head on his chest and draped an arm over his waist. Godric she had missed him these past few days. His thumb was running slow circles against her bare arm; her skin covered in goosebumps from his ministrations as she listened to his heart beating rhythmically in his chest. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured in her ear, sending heat rushing up her neck and cheeks. 

 

Her lips pulled into a smile for the first time since she had said goodbye to her parents. Her eyes fluttered closed briefly as she felt herself relax. “I’ve missed you, too,” she said. 

 

Draco didn’t press her to talk. He didn’t ask her why she hadn’t let him in once the past few days. He didn’t remind her that  _ she  _ had yelled at  _ him  _ for stowing himself away in their bedroom. He simply laid there with her, his arm around her, his warmth radiating onto her under the glittering night sky. It was just the two of them, and she had forgotten how much she loved these moments. Her heart was still heavy in her chest, and there were hour old tear tracks still stained on her cheeks. She knew she wasn’t okay yet, she knew she wasn’t done mourning the loss of her parents. But she did have Draco. A boy she shouldn’t have even fallen in love with. A boy who shouldn’t have fallen in love with her. They weren’t fated to be together, for they were from two completely different worlds. He was a Pureblood and she was a Mudblood and they should never be, according to many. But there they were, defying odds and throwing life its own curveball. It was this thought that calmed her, and made the ache of losing her parents a little less painful. Who was to say she couldn’t restore her parents memories when this was all over? Maybe one day, she could have her family back…

 

“Draco?” she said, her voice ringing out in the darkness. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance. 

 

“Hmm?” 

 

She cuddled closer to him, but even with no space between them, it didn’t feel close enough. Hermione tilted her head upwards and pressed a line of gentle, tender kisses along his jaw before she whispered, “Talk to me about the stars.” 

 

And that was exactly what he did. 


	35. Cheers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24, who is uploading on FF.Net! 
> 
> Apologies for the late upload, thanks for being patient! We hope you enjoy and thanks for the love!

All that Hermione could hear was the sound of crickets and other bugs outside, but it was silent in the bedroom. She peeked open one eye and looked up at Draco’s face and saw that he had his eyes closed. Maybe he had gone to sleep like he’d said… To test, she shifted her head a slight bit from where it was rested against his shoulder, but he didn’t make any movement to indicate that he was still awake. They had only recently snuck back into their bedroom after she’d joined him out on the grass, seeing him for the first time since coming back from the airport. She wasn’t sure how long they’d stayed lying out there looking up at the stars, and his voice as he explained the constellations had been beginning to lull her to sleep from her complete relaxation, when they decided they should go back inside.

 

She sighed softly through her nose and then moved her hand underneath the cover to rest on the middle of his chest and when she moved her thumb, she felt the small bump of one of the many scars that now adorned his skin. She traced the length of the scar down and realised that it was one of the larger ones he had, going right down to his hip bone.

 

“What are you doing?” Draco murmured quietly and she jumped slightly; she had, after all, thought he’d been asleep. The covers rustled as he moved his hand under the covers too, and when he found her hand, he pulled it back up to his sternum.

 

“Nothing,” she whispered, and leant up slightly on her elbow so she could look down at him properly.

 

He lifted his free hand up to brush away a strand of hair that had caught on her lip, and then asked, “Is something wrong?”

 

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and she bit on the inside of her cheek. “I need to apologise--” She began.

 

He sighed and moved his fingers from her cheek to press against her lips gently. “You have nothing to apologise for,” he said.

 

Hermione furrowed her brows and pulled back. “ _ Yes _ , I do!” She said firmly and grabbed his hand so he couldn’t shush her in that way again. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to stay serious though, when his lips curled up into a small smile from seeing how frustrated she got so quickly.

 

“Merlin, I’ve missed you,” he breathed, and her grip loosened slightly on his hand to a grip that  _ wouldn’t _ break his fingers.

 

“And I’ve missed you too,” she said, “But it’s my fault we’d even missed each other in the first place. I got so angry at you for staying in the room only for a couple of days, but I did the same thing. You at least made the effort to leave the room to eat and let me sleep in the bed at night.”

 

“We all deal with things differently,” Draco said and rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. “And what you went through was hard, Hermione. No-one expected you to act completely normal, or wanted you to be up and about socialising as if nothing was wrong.”

 

She looked down at their hands and bit her bottom lip gently. She didn’t want to think back to the past few days she’d spent holed up in this very room. The memories of the emotions that occurred over those days wanted to pull her back under and into that sadness. “I couldn’t even leave the bed…” She said after a long pause. “I didn’t want to be awake.”

 

Draco sat up fully in bed and wrapped one arm around her shoulders and she instantly curled close to his side. “That’s not your fault,” he said firmly. “You couldn’t have controlled it to turn out any differently than it did. And no-one’s blaming you for how you acted.”

 

“ _ I’m _ blaming me…”

 

“Well stop,” he said firmly, his fingers squeezing her arm. “This whole situation is fucked up, and what happened, happened because it was necessary. You being upset isn’t anything to apologise for.”

 

“I should have let you in,” she said, her voice slightly muffled against the skin of his chest.

  
“Just like I should have let you in a lot of the time during school, but that didn’t happen,” Draco said and put his finger on her chin to make her look up at him. “You can’t keep blaming yourself, Granger. For anything. Your parents, your feelings, what you’ve been doing -- don’t blame yourself.” She let out a soft sigh and just as she made to speak again, he cut her off. “You were the one that was always getting on at me not to blame myself. You gave me the space I needed and helped me heal when I needed it. You need to start telling yourself that it’s alright.”

 

She nodded once and stared down at their hands. “I should have let you in,” she said and quickly continued when she knew he would try and argue her. “No, listen. I’m not going to keep blaming myself… I just should have let you in the room. I feel better with you around.”

 

He smiled at that which made her smile too. Every smile she received and gave since she’d sent her parents away was like a blessing she didn’t want to forget. “I wish you’d have let me in too,” he said and his smile turned playful. “Because now I think I’ll have lower back problems for the rest of my life. Do you know how bloody uncomfortable that floor is to sleep on?” He teased.

 

She laughed quietly and covered her face with her hands. “Don’t,” she groaned, “I was  _ horrible _ . I don’t know how you didn’t burst into the room like I did with you.”

 

She felt his lips press against her forehead then stretch into a small smile. “We’re together, I have to do the nice thing now, don’t I?”

 

“Oh yes, you’re just an exceptional partner, aren’t you?” She rolled her eyes and lifted her head from his chest. She watched as his cheeky smile relaxed and his expression softened as he looked at her. “I’m sorry for waking you before.”

 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Draco shrugged and then slid back down to lie on his back. She followed suit, tucking herself close to him and letting her head rest back down on his shoulder. “How was I expected to sleep when your hands were roaming all over my chest?” He breathed a laugh.

 

She smiled and placed her hand on his chest, right above his heart, and drew little circles on his skin with her fingertips. Neither of them said goodnight to each other as the urge to sleep overcame them quickly, and before long, his head was tipped back on the pillow as he softly snored, and she stayed curled by his side, her hand not moving from his chest.

 

* * *

 

Hermione wasn’t unobservant in the slightest. The next morning, she noticed how fidgety Draco was once they had woken up and gotten dressed to go downstairs to breakfast. He hadn’t started up any conversations with her, nor really properly responded to her own questions of what was wrong.

 

When they had first come downstairs and entered the kitchen, Hermione had initially forgotten that this would be the first time in several days she’d properly left the bedroom. The realisation flooded to her quickly though when Andromeda looked up from reading the newspaper at the dining table and smiled widely upon realising she was there. “I’m glad you’ve come down,” she told Hermione.

 

Hermione had thanked her every time the witch had come up to the bedroom in the past few days. Somehow it had felt better talking to her, because in a way, they were almost on the same boat. Andromeda had separated from her parents by choice -- obviously in a much different fashion to how Hermione had --, and knew the woes of leaving family. She knew she had been too harsh on not wanting to see Draco, but all she could think of was that his parents would be safe regardless. They could protect themselves anywhere they were, if need be, and she knew that there was a high possibility they would know that Draco was still alive; Snape had, after all, told them that he would find Mister and Mrs Malfoy as soon as it was possible, the night of the Astronomy Tower attack.

 

She thanked Andromeda again as breakfast had already been laid out, so the three of them ate bacon, eggs and toast in silence. Andromeda flipped through the paper and when she was done and announced she would be doing some house chores, Hermione had asked to take the Prophet from her to have a look. She sighed as she read some of the article headlines. One entailed that another Muggle had been found dead in the street, unknown why to Muggle authorities, but Aurors had known it was because of Dark Magic. Other headlines made her suspect that the Prophet wasn’t going to be as credible as it somewhat had been. There were more reports on the Ministry and how well it was functioning -- which after reading the article, Hermione decided was utter rubbish.

 

It was when she’d reached the end of the Prophet, deciding not to read the Quidditch section, that Draco cleared his throat and looked her in the eye properly. “You want to talk to me now?” She asked, unamused. She’d thought that after the night before they would have been alright, and not gone back to one of them acting peculiar or withdrawn.

 

“I’m sorry,” Draco apologised, which made Hermione sit up slightly straighter and give him her attention. He sounded sincere in his apology, and she had an awful feeling in her gut that he was going to tell her something that she might not enjoy to hear. “I just didn’t know how to bring it up…”

 

“Did something happen?” She asked quickly. “Has someone we know been hur--”

 

“No, no, nothing like that,” he cut in, and she sighed in relief. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.” He scratched the back of his neck and sighed.

 

“Just tell me, Draco,” she said, her voice softer now. If it was causing him so much anxiety to say, she didn’t want to sound angry about it. “I won’t be angry.”

 

He scrunched up his nose and then looked her in the eye again. “The Order found my parents,” he said.

 

Hermione stared at him for several seconds too long without saying anything. She hadn’t expected him to say that; actually, she wasn’t sure  _ what _ he had been going to say. At first she felt the familiar flames of anger and jealousy flicker within her before she mentally chastised herself and told herself to snap out of it. “Are they safe?” She asked.

 

He nodded once and then let out a pent up breath. “They went to one of our houses in France. After Snape found them after that night, I’m guessing,” he said, and she reached across the table and held his hand. She had to be happy for him. “The Order have taken them to a safe house and they need to be kept there. I don’t know how long for… They need to test them, or something. A bit like what Kingsley did with me, I’m hoping.”

 

Her lips were parted slightly. When he looked up at her, looking like he wanted to plead for forgiveness, Hermione gave him a small smile. “Draco, this is good news,” she said and squeezed his fingers gently.

 

“Yes, but your--”

 

“I’ve done what I can do,” she interrupted, not wanting to talk of her parents. She’d spent too long dwelling on the hardships of leaving them, and she wanted to be positive. She wouldn’t forget them… They were always going to be on her mind. But she knew there was no use holeing herself up in the bedroom becoming angry and sad over the inevitable. “Your parents are safe, and they might be here soon,” she said, brushing her thumb along the back of his hand. As much as she didn’t like the idea of ever coming face to face with Lucius Malfoy, she had to keep it in mind that if he was a good enough man to be able to defect to the Order and change his alliances, then she could at least try to be civil to him. “What do you think about it?” She asked him.

 

The smile that graced his features was so full of hope that it made her smile too. “I think it’s brilliant,” he told her. “If they can join the Order, then they’re turning their backs on the...the bastard that screwed all of our lives up. They’re taking back from him what he stole from all of us. Think of what they can tell the Order… I know that I heard some plans from the Death Eaters when I, well, you know, that would have helped the Order out if I had been apart of it back then.”

 

He made a good point, really. How many meetings had Lucius sat in beside Voldemort, hearing his plans and what he wanted to achieve with his band of followers. Narcissa may have even been involved in the meetings too. What information could they have that could possibly be able to save lives, maybe even stop the Death Eaters from doing something destructive before it happened. “That’s a good point, Draco,” she told him, “I never thought of that. Do you know when they might be released?” She asked. She wished she hadn’t have stuck herself in their room for so long, as if she had been out, she could have been there with Draco when he’d been given the news. She couldn’t imagine how it had felt for him to keep it cooped up inside of himself, scared to mention it to her.

 

“Moody didn’t give me any dates,” Draco said. “So I don’t know. I wish someone would just tell me. I want to know when I can see them.” He paused and looked behind his shoulder and then back to Hermione. “Andromeda got the news first,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “She started crying.  _ Happily _ . She said she’s glad my mum’s alive.”

 

Hermione smiled at that. “She’s Andromeda’s sister, I’m not surprised that she’s happy,” she said and squeezed his hand again.

 

“I might have a family, Hermione,” Draco said, looking up from their hands. His eyes were bright with optimism and happiness, that she couldn’t help but feel a surge of love and happiness for him. He’d suffered so much with his family. “A  _ proper _ family. A mum and dad without the threat of death over our heads. An Aunt, and an Uncle too… My mum will have her sister…” He trailed off and smiled down at the table. “And you,” he said after a pause, looking up at her with the biggest smile she’d seen on his face since they’d arrived at Andromeda’s. “I’ll have you too. We’ll be together. Everything’s going to work out, I know it will.”

 

* * *

 

“Hermione! Draco!”

 

The call from the back door made Hermione lift her head up and look back at the house. She and Draco had been lying out on a blanket near the pond for the past hour or so. He’d been sleeping the majority of the time whilst she read, but Andromeda’s call from the house had made him raise his head too.

 

“Come up to the house when you’re ready!” Andromeda called out to them. “There’s some exciting news!”

 

Hermione’s heart rate quickened and she looked at Draco with a smile. He was still half asleep by the looks of things, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. “What’s that about?” He asked and sat up.

 

“I have no idea, but we should go,” Hermione said and stood up from the blanket. When he was up, she gathered the blanket in her arms and started heading up to the house. “Maybe it’s something to do with your parents?” She suggested, and his steps quickened.

 

They entered the house and she left the blanket folded by the front door, and went with Draco to the living room where they could hear some speaking. When they rounded the corner, they were greeted by the sight of Remus and a shockingly pink-haired Tonks sitting on one of the couches, while Andromeda perched on the arm of the armchair that Ted was sitting on. “What’s going on?” Hermione asked, and smiled when Tonks caught her eye and gave her a playful wink.

 

“We’ve got some news. One that I’m sure you won’t find as thrilling as the other,” Remus said, looking at Draco with a small smile.

 

Hermione turned her head to look at her boyfriend, and then around to look at Andromeda and Ted. Both had smiles on their faces, and Hermione only realised then how rosy Andromeda’s cheeks looked, and her eyes… It almost looked like she’d been crying.

 

“It’s been organised that in four days time, myself, Alastor, Kingsley and two other Aurors will be going to the safehouse your parents are being held in custody, and we’ll be formally questioning the both of them separately on where their allegiance lies,” Remus said, looking entirely at Draco the whole time he spoke.

 

Hermione felt Draco’s hand come to the back of her shirt and she felt his fingers twist in the fabric, right at the hem. “You’re going to talk to them?” He asked, his voice rather quiet.

 

“Yes,” Remus nodded. “We don’t know how long it will take or what the outcome will truly be, but it’s been decided that letting you know what’s going to happen is best.”

 

Hermione looked at Draco with a smile, but his expression was of utter shock. “Can I go with you?” He asked. “Please, I just need to see them. They’ll defect if they know I’m okay,” he said, with a pleading edge to his voice.

 

She watched his expression fall when Remus shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Draco. You can’t be there when we question them. Having you there would be a distraction to them.”

 

Draco’s hand dropped from the back of her top, and fell to his side.

 

“Sorry, Draco,” Tonks said, too.

 

Hermione reached out to curl her pinkie finger around his, and he shrugged a shoulder. “It’s fine,” he said. “I didn’t expect to be able to anyway. It’s fine,” he repeated, “They’ll answer everything and be here soon…”

 

She did admire his optimism, and was glad that he had it at all during this time. Everyone knew his parents’ past, especially his father’s, so Hermione was so glad that instead of thinking things would turn out for the worst, he was trying to think positively. She took a step to the couch and tugged Draco gently and the both of them sat down.

 

“Oh, please tell them, I’m bursting over here!” Andromeda exclaimed with a grin after a few moments of silence.

 

“ _ Mum _ , he just got that news piled onto him, give him a chance!” Tonks said, rolling her eyes at her mother.

 

Hermione furrowed her brows and looked between both witches. “Go on. It’s fine,” Draco said, waving his hand a bit.

 

“Nymphadora?” Andromeda pushed, smiling at her daughter.

 

All eyes in the room turned to Tonks and her grin was different than usual when the attention was completely focused on her. Even Remus by her side, normally so calm and keeping to himself, had a smile on his face, and Hermione watched as he glanced up at Tonks.

 

“Am I missing something?” Draco murmured to Hermione quietly, just as Tonks raised her hand up, palm facing towards herself.

 

It took Hermione a second or two to realise before her eyes caught sight of the ring sitting on Tonks’ fourth finger. “Oh my--  _ Tonks _ !” She breathed and stood up with a grin. “Remus! You’re engaged? What-- When did this happen?” She asked, unable to control the rush of excitement that flooded through her. “I didn’t even know you two were together!”

 

Tonks’ expression turned confused as she looked at her mother who had now stood up from the arm of the armchair, her hands clasped tightly together in front of her. “You didn’t tell them?”

 

“I thought they would have heard at the Burrow!” Andromeda defended but then waved a hand. “Nevermind that,” she smiled, “They know now.”

 

“Bit too late,” Tonks laughed. Hermione walked over to her to give her a hug which Tonks happily reciprocated, giving her a tight squeeze.

 

“Congratulations, really,” Hermione grinned and then looked at Remus. She felt rather awkward, given that she often still thought of the man as her Professor, but she gave him a small quick hug too, and he patted her back.

 

“Thanks,” Tonks grinned and then smirked when Draco got off the couch to join them. “C’mere, little cousin,” she teased, standing up to hug him too.

 

He met Hermione’s eyes over Tonks’ shoulder and glared, his cheeks with a dash of red on them since he knew everyone was watching and laughing at Tonks’ ease of acting like she’d known Draco her whole life. When he pulled back, he reached over to shake Remus’ hand after a slight moment of hesitation.

 

“I think we should celebrate,” Ted said from his chair. “A big dinner for tonight.”

 

“We’re on shift tonight dad, we can’t,” Tonks reminded him.

 

“Tomorrow night, then!” Andromeda perked up. “It will give us time to prepare.”

 

Hermione was smiling along with everyone else, and then a thought struck her. “I’ll help too!” She told Andromeda, knowing her plan would work out perfectly.

 

* * *

 

It was too hot to do anything. Hermione and Draco had already taken cold showers, tried their hand at cooling charms, and drank icy cold glasses of water, but nothing seemed to cool them down. The summer sun beat down through the bedroom window, and Hermione lay on the bed with her arms and legs spread, not wanting to touch  _ anything _ , dressed in a tank top and only her underwear. Draco was lying on his stomach facing the end of the bed, stripped down only to his boxers, and made noises of discontent every few minutes.

 

They were alone in the house, as Andromeda and Ted had gone out to attend an Order meeting, hence the reason they were both in a comfortable state of undress to attempt to cool down.

 

“Nothing’s working,” she groaned and sat up, pushing her hair back from where some strands had slipped from her ponytail.

 

Draco rolled over onto his back and looked over to her. “Why don’t we just go swimming?”

 

Hermione’s lips parted as she stared at him. “ _ How _ long have you had that suggestion in your mind?”

 

“Five minutes?” He shrugged.

 

“ _ Five _ \-- Five minutes?!” She swatted his leg and then got up from the bed. “That’s five minutes we’ve been sweltering when we could be in the water!” She said and walked over to her bag of clothes.

 

“You could have thought of it too,” he drawled and she heard the mattress creak when he got off it.

 

She pushed her clothes around, and sighed in annoyance. “I didn’t pack a swimsuit,” she said.

 

“And?”

 

“There’s nothing I can wear as a substitute,” she muttered as she bent over, rummaging through the bag more.

 

“You could always wear nothing?” He drawled, and Hermione looked back at him with narrowed eyes.

 

“In your dreams,” she responded and went back to looking.

 

Draco snorted and walked around the bed and tapped her side. “Just wear your underwear. That’s what I’m doing,” he shrugged.

 

“Yes, but you’re--” She trailed off and gestured to him standing there in his boxers. “I’ll get sunburnt,” she excused, and his raised eyebrow made her sigh and roll her eyes. He turned away from her and went to his own clothes and pulled out a grey t-shirt and threw it across to her.

 

Five minutes later, they both wandered from the house and across the grass to get to the pond. She was wearing one of Draco’s new plain t-shirts over the top of her bra and underwear, but still hadn’t admitted that his idea of doing so in the first place was quite smart. She walked with a purpose, getting a few steps ahead of him when he teased her, wanting her to admit that his idea had worked out, and left him with the task of carrying their towels too.

 

“I don’t even remember the last time I went swimming,” Draco admitted when they got nearer to the pond, and the cool mud around the water was a blessed relief to them both when their toes sunk into it.

 

“Neither do I, really,” she said, and took the towels from him to place on the grass. “Still remember how to do it?” She teased him.

 

“Do you?” He smirked.

 

“Of course  _ I _ do. I don’t forget skills like--  _ Draco _ !” She screeched when he ran towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up like she was as light as a feather, and threw them both into the pond. Despite the hot, sticky air, the pond water was shockingly cool, and stole the breath from her lungs when they were both submerged. Her hair instantly plastered to her face when she surfaced, and she gave Draco her best glare when his head broke the water too. “You  _ arse _ !” She said and hit his shoulder.

 

His only response was to laugh and push his fringe back from his forehead. Her annoyance with him didn’t last long at all after seeing that.

 

“But you haven’t forgotten to swim,  _ have you _ ?” He grinned and she felt his hands come to rest on her waist under the water.

 

“No, of course I haven’t,” she sniffed and pushed her feet into the floor of the pond to push them into the deeper water. He followed, the water barely brushing his bellybutton as he stood up to walk, rather than wade like her.

 

“You should have left the shirt,” he commented when she stood up as best as she could as the water got deeper, and her chest showed above the water.

 

“Do you want me to push you under?” She jokingly threatened when she watched his eyes linger  _ too _ long below her neck, and she ducked back under the water so it was up to her chin.

 

“No fair,” he smirked and submerged himself too up to his neck and swam towards her. She smiled when he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, his chin coming to rest on the crook of her neck. She hugged him around his middle and gave him a little kiss on his earlobe. 

 

“I have to admit--”

 

“Here we go,” he drawled.

 

She laughed and pushed his fringe back. “I have to admit this was a good idea on your behalf.”

 

“I know,” he smirked and put his hands on the back of her thighs to hoist her up.

 

She smiled and wrapped her legs around his waist and gave him a curious look. “This isn’t swimming,” she told him and entwined her fingers behind his neck.

 

He laughed too and took a step forward and walked them deeper into the pond until she felt his legs moving back and forth as he tread water to keep them afloat. “Feeling cooler?” He asked, and she nodded and extracted herself from his hold and started to tread water herself.

 

“Much,” she said. “This is what I used to do at the Burrow with Harry, Ginny and Ron whenever we were all staying there over the summer,” she smiled at the fondness of the memories. “Ginny had this stupid idea one day that flying over the pond and jumping off the broom would be a good idea,” she snorted. “I’m surprised one of them never broke their necks, I was terrified watching them!”

 

“And you didn’t join in? I’m shocked, Granger,” he joked with a smile. “I wish there was a broom here,” he said and looked up at the sky, his eyes squinted slightly from the glare of the sun.

 

“Maybe there is,” Hermione said, and while she wasn’t fond of brooms and didn’t like the idea of Draco flying around on one, she knew he was an experienced and good flyer, and knew how much joy it brought to him. “You could ask Ted or Andromeda; see if they have one in storage somewhere.”

 

“I might,” he nodded. “I had a bit of a look a few days ago, when… Y’know,” he trailed off, and she knew exactly when he was talking about. “But I couldn’t find one. I wasn’t too comfortable asking, either.”

 

“But you are now, right?” She asked. She knew that he’d had many conversations with Andromeda alone over the past few days, though she didn’t know what about, and wanted to let him bring it up if he wanted to rather than her asking. But just because they had spoken, didn’t mean he was necessarily completely comfortable with her, or asking her and Ted for things.

 

“Sort of,” he said and kicked his legs forward and lay back so he was floating almost on top of the water. “I can sit and talk with her better than I could when we first came here. I don’t really think of her as my Aunt yet, though… Is that bad?”

 

“I don’t think so,” she said honestly, raising her voice so he could hear her as she swam a little away, wanting to get moving to keep cool. “You’ve known her for almost two weeks. You don’t  _ really _ know each other.”

 

“But I think she easily thinks of me as her nephew,” Draco said and sighed. “That makes it even worse.”

 

“Draco, she’s known about you since you were born, it’s different for her,” Hermione reminded him. “You’re her only nephew. She doesn’t have any nieces. It’s just different…”

 

“She’s known  _ about _ me, it’s different.”

 

“But you haven’t known about her. And what was mentioned about her was twisted views to try and make you think unkindly of her. You wouldn’t have been encouraged to know about her or her existence as you grew up,” she tried to reason.

 

He was quiet and stayed floating along the water. “I guess you’re right,” he said eventually and then went upright in the water to start treading again. “It’s just surreal.”

 

She swam back over to him and draped her arms over his shoulders and hooked her legs around his waist. “We need to stop with the serious talk,” she said and laughed when he raised his eyebrows. She kissed him once and then looked him in the eye. “We need to enjoy what we have right now. Agreed?”

 

“Agreed,” Draco nodded.

 

She should have guessed that by the smirk on his face and playful glint in his eyes, that him pulling her under the water and then splashing her with water when they surfaced was his idea of enjoying what they had now. She laughed through trying to splash Draco back, and the both of them spent the rest of the afternoon in the water under the beaming afternoon sun.

 

* * *

 

“Andromeda?” Hermione asked tentatively, standing on the threshold of the kitchen archway.

 

The witch looked over her shoulder from where she was at the kitchen counters, with her hands in a mixing bowl and a bright red apron covering her front. “Yes, dear?” She answered.

 

“I was just wondering…” Hermione started and looked over her shoulder to make sure that Draco hadn’t followed her. She’d left him in the living room with Ted, the both of them playing a game of Wizarding Chess which Draco had asked to play when he’d spotted the set stored in the bookcase. “Do you have any ingredients to make a cake?”

 

Andromeda seemed a little surprised at the question, but smiled. “I do, it’s all in the cupboard and I have a fresh carton of eggs that Molly gave to Ted the last time he was at the Burrow.”

 

“Great,” Hermione grinned and walked forward into the kitchen, closer to her. “I want to make a cake for Draco,” she said, keeping her voice quieter. “We never really got to celebrate his birthday… It wasn’t really a day that stored any positive emotions for the most part, it was the day after what happened in the Tower,” she explained to Andromeda who frowned and nodded in understanding. “Even though his birthday has passed, I still want to do something to acknowledge it.”

 

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” the older witch smiled and wiped her hands on her apron. She picked up her wand from the counter and with a wordless wave, summoned a cooking book to land right in Hermione’s hands. “You choose what you want to make, and the kitchen’s yours.”

 

Hermione smiled and looked down at the book and immediately began flipping through it before she stopped. “Maybe I don’t need the book…” She said and placed it down. “Draco told me that his mum used to always make him a certain sponge cake, and that it was his favourite.”

 

Andromeda nodded and gave a small laugh. “I think I know the very one,” she said. “It would most likely be the cake that Cissa always tried to sneak extra slices of without anyone knowing, when it was made for us when we were younger.” It was hard for Hermione to imagine Narcissa Malfoy much younger with an equally as young Andromeda, back when they were close.

 

“Do you know the recipe?” Hermione asked. “If you tell me it, I’ll remember how to make it, I won’t be a bother,” she assured her.

 

“You could never be a bother,” Andromeda told her. “I think I’ll help you make it though,” she said, “It’s been years since I’ve done it. It will bring back fond memories, I’m sure.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner had been a joyous affair. The table was full of chatter, smiles and laughs as they all tucked into the delicious roast dinner that Andromeda had made. Champagne glasses sat in front of her, Ted, Tonks and Remus, but Hermione and Draco refrained even though they’d been offered. Draco had stayed quiet for the majority of the dinner, only sometimes talking to Hermione, but for the most part he smiled and just listened in. Hermione could only guess that he’d never experienced a family dinner quite like this before.

 

When Andromeda and Tonks started to talk about starting to plan the wedding, Hermione joined in the conversation too. She loved weddings, but had only ever been to one before with her parents in the summer holidays of her second year. Without having her to talk to, Draco turned to join in on Remus and Ted’s conversation, something that surprised Hermione when she looked over to them and saw that Draco was talking to them, the both of them listening intently with smiles.

 

Eventually though, one by one their plates were cleared and they sat back, full of the delicious food Andromeda had cooked. Ted was the first to leave the table, followed by Remus and Tonks and Draco stood up too, looking back at Hermione. “You go on, I’ll help Andromeda clear up,” she said, encouraging him to go spend time in the living room.

 

For a second, he looked like he was about to tell her that he’d stay to help too, but he left the kitchen to go join everyone else. Hermione gathered up the plates, her excitement building when she saw Andromeda take the cake out of the fridge and set it on the counter. It looked perfect, with just the right amount of icing and fruit on top. Once the candles were on, Hermione knew it would look even better. “I hope he’ll enjoy it,” she said and opened a drawer to find some candles.

 

“He will,” Hermione said assuredly. “I just know he will.”

 

* * *

 

The look of surprise on Draco’s features when they brought the cake on its plate into the living room, was one that Hermione would never forget. She’d used her wand to turn off the lamps as they’d entered and the candles flickered brightly as Andromeda walked over to Draco. Hermione began to sing happy birthday first, and Andromeda joined her instantly. Ted, Remus and Tonks were a bit confused, but started to sing along too, Tonks the loudest and most exuberant of them all. 

 

Hermione didn’t take her eyes off of Draco as he stared at the cake, the light of the candles flickering on his face, then looked up to everyone in the room, before finally his gaze landed on hers. His look of shock had been transformed into a smile and when they all finished singing, he hesitated before Andromeda encouraged him to make a wish. He paused a few seconds longer then blew the candles out in one, all seventeen of them, and everyone (except Andromeda, who was still holding the cake platter), started to clap loudly.

 

With a wave of her wand, Hermione turned the lamps back on in the room, exposing the slight flush high on Draco’s cheekbones, and she walked over to him to sit beside him on the couch.

 

“It’s not my birthday,” he told her with a laugh.

 

“I know,” she smiled and took his hand. “But we couldn’t celebrate on the day, so we’re celebrating tonight!”

 

He laughed again and shook his head. “How long have you been planning this?”

 

“Since everyone was invited for dinner yesterday,” she admitted and he smiled and wrapped his arm around her waist.

 

“And you remembered what I told you about it being my favourite type of cake,” he smiled.

 

Hermione laughed and looked up at him. “Of course I did! And Andromeda knew exactly what cake it was to make.”

 

Andromeda had already stood up and was on her way to the kitchen, calling Tonks to help her with dishing out slices of cake. Draco leaned against the back cushion of the couch, pulling Hermione with him and he turned his head, and his nose brushed against her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered, as Ted and Remus began to talk to each other. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

 

But she could tell from his smile, that she knew exactly.


	36. Shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me! 
> 
> Apologies for the day late update; I'm in the process of writing my first original short story and we both have different stuff going on throughout the week. Thanks so much for your love and comments, you guys are the best! We hope you enjoy the chapter. Until next week xx
> 
> Don't forget to follow us on tumblr (@avdubs (my fanfic/writing blog) or @pansyprknson (my hp blog) and @hexrmionegranger (oeuvre24's bog))

Hermione had been secretly having mixed feelings about the good days she and Draco had been having since she’d stopped hiding away in their bedroom. On one hand, she was grateful for the laughter and smiles that Draco had brought to her lips in the last few days; she needed it. They’d spent hours upon hours relaxing by the pond, sometimes reading, other times talking and skipping rocks. Draco had even started putting in a real effort at mealtimes; he started conversations with both his Aunt and Uncle, and was often the one to supply witty and sarcastic remarks that left the other three close to tears with laughter. Although on the other hand, she felt a little guilty... Harry was no doubt isolated at the Dursleys’, and she had said goodbye to her parents almost a week ago. Not to mention Dumbledore had died just a few weeks previous, and there was a war raging outside their doors. It felt wrong to have a good time, to laugh and joke and smile. 

 

She and Draco were currently wrapped up in their sheets, their clothes scattered across the floor. She pressed herself closer to his naked form and wrapped an arm over his waist. Draco had an arm around her shoulders, his hand resting on her side. Her body felt light and airy, her legs still shaking slightly, but her heart felt heavy and the internal war she had been waging for days was on the tip of her tongue. “Do you ever feel guilty for being happy?” she asked, the question pouring out of her mouth without any sort of preamble. 

 

Draco hesitated for a moment before he said, “Honestly? Not really. Just because the world is shit doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for a bit.” 

 

Hermione, who had been expecting a different response, frowned. “I just know Harry’s miserable. It’s like the summer after the Triwizard Tournament all over again…” 

 

She felt Draco’s grip on her tighten. He sighed heavily, then said, “You know, people knock Slytherins on many things, but one thing they can’t tear us down for, is that we just don’t see the point in not allowing yourself to be happy because of what’s going on. That’s not a bad thing, you know. Taking care of yourself.” 

 

“Maybe you’re right,” she mumbled, running her fingers over the trail of blonde hairs from his belly button. 

 

“Much as this may surprise you Granger, that is often the case,” he chuckled before kissing the top of her head. 

 

Hermione swatted at his stomach and rolled her eyes. “Think you’re funny, do you?” she said, amused nonetheless. 

 

They heard the sound of footsteps approaching fairly quick and both jumped out of bed quickly, scrambling frantically for their clothes. As Hermione slipped on her knickers and pyjama bottoms, she saw Draco glance at the door to ensure that it was locked. In his attempt, he’d fallen with a thud to floor, one leg still sticking out of his own pajama bottoms and Hermione giggled, clapping a hand over her mouth as she searched for her shirt. 

 

A knock on the door sounded just as they both slipped their shirts back over their heads. Draco rushed to answer the door after hastily tidying his hair with one hand. Ted stood on the other side, his hair slightly tousled and his shirt wrinkled. “Morning,” he greeted them with a yawn. “Hungry?” 

 

Hermione’s stomach gave a grumble loud enough for them all to hear. “I guess that answers that question,” Ted said from the doorway. 

 

Draco took her hand as they left their bedroom, trailing behind Ted. From the first landing of the stairs, Hermione could smell the waffles and sausage cooking in the kitchen. Her stomach grumbled again and this time, Ted stopped and turned around. “Work up an appetite already this morning?” he asked with a grin. He didn’t bother waiting for a reply before continuing on to the kitchen. 

 

Draco snorted in attempt to cover up his laughter as her cheeks burned. As a matter of fact, she  _ had  _ worked up an appetite. Only it consisted of her and Draco naked, entangled in their sheets. She settled for not answering Ted’s comment and sat alongside Draco at the kitchen table. Ted was setting the table and Draco had gotten up to get the two of them a cup of coffee. Andromeda was humming to herself as she managed the sausages. “Hermione, dear, could you grab this stack of waffles please and set them down on the table?” she asked, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. 

 

She obliged, happy for something to do and brought the plate of waffles to the table. After a few more minutes of the four of them bustling around the small kitchen, they were all finally seated at the table. Draco passed the jam to Hermione for her toast while Ted cut his waffles into pieces and said to Andromeda, “I think Kingsley is coming around for dinner tonight. It is Wednesday, right?” 

 

Andromeda smiled to herself after taking a bite of her waffles and nodded. “Yes, dear, it is.” 

 

Draco stiffened beside her and when Hermione turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow, he leaned close to her and muttered, “Kingsley intimidates me a bit.” 

 

Hermione suppressed a giggle and took a sip of her coffee. “He’s not so bad,” she replied. “But I can understand that.” 

 

The rest of breakfast passed with easy conversation, sometimes the only sound was that of cutlery clinking and scraping against their plates. Andromeda filled them in on the plans Tonks had started to make for the small ceremony. “Hmm, I’ll have to see what Tonks wants to do about your dress, Hermione. I’m not sure it would be wise for you to go into Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade…” 

 

Ted shook his head adamantly as he piled dishes into the sink. “Absolutely not, it’s already a risk for even you to go, Dromeda.” 

 

“I’m always careful,” she said with a reassuring pat on his arm. 

 

“Even still,” he said. 

 

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Hermione said airily. Draco put a hand on the small of her back and thanked his Aunt for breakfast. 

 

As they made their way back to their bedroom, Hermione said excitedly, “Ooh we’ll have two weddings to look forward to!” When she turned to look at Draco, she saw the faintest hint of a smile on his lips and fondness etched in his features. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione felt his breath tickle her neck, and his fingers trail lightly up her side, pulling the t-shirt she had borrowed from him with it. She could already feel his erection pressing against her bum, with only the fabric of their undergarments for barrier. They had laid down not that long ago to try and go to sleep, but Draco had thrown that idea out the window when he’d first cuddled up behind her and started peppering kisses down the back of her neck. Draco pushed the t-shirt up to her chin and his fingers traced down to her bare breasts. She shivered involuntarily at his gentle touch, his fingers slowly circling her nipple before pinching it softly. She inhaled sharply and pushed her bum against him, pressing her entire body against his as she did so. She could feel the trace of a smile on his lips as he trailed kisses down her neck. “Harder,” she breathed, when the gentle pressure was no longer enough. 

 

Draco chuckled in her ear and obliged, squeezing harder on her left nipple. “Better?” he asked, his voice vibrating against her skin. A chill shot down her spine, and she nodded earnestly. Her mind was starting to go blank; all her daily worries felt as though they were melting away. Draco’s hand soon began to wander down her stomach, and he slid his hand beneath her knickers. She heard him chuckle again when his fingers slipped between her folds and felt the pool of liquid that had formed on her knickers. A soft moan escaped her lips as he ran his thumb over her clit, just barely touching the flesh. She pressed herself against him again, wanting more. He slipped a finger inside her and wriggled it before pulling out slowly. Hermione writhed under his ministrations; his thumb was circling her clit faster now while he pushed two fingers into her. Tension was already starting to build in her abdomen. She snaked a hand up and behind her, gripping tightly onto Draco’s blonde locks. “M-more,” she gasped as he pressed two fingers against her clit, rubbing it harder than he had before. 

 

His fingers worked her over relentlessly, slipping in and out of her, his fingers wriggling inside her as her thighs clenched around his hand. She was panting now, gasping for breath as she clung to the pillow. She felt like she was going to explode...she couldn’t take it much longer…

 

“Draco,” she breathed. “I’m-- I’m going to--” But she didn’t get to finish her sentence as Draco pulled his hand out of her knickers. Hermione let out an involuntary whimper and turned her head to glare at him. He smirked at her as he pulled down his underwear before doing the same to her. 

 

He settled back down next to her and slipped his hand between her thighs again. He brushed his thumb lightly over her swollen flesh, eliciting another moan from her parted lips. Her legs jolted at the touch. Draco nuzzled his head against hers, and she felt his lips brush against her ear. “Keep quiet Granger,” he murmured. Hermione glanced at the door and cursed the house for its thin walls. 

 

Slowly, he pushed his length into her. Her lips parted into an ‘o’ as she felt him slip into her. Godric, she’d missed him. A quick moment of panic overcame when she struggled to remember if she had taken her birth control pill that day, until the vivid memory of her taking it after breakfast flooded her mind; but with Draco now moving at a steady pace and the pleasure building inside her again, she was pulled from her thoughts, lost in the feel of him inside her. She bit on her lip as he continued to pump in and out of her, his grip tight on her hip. It was hard to keep quiet when she wanted to cry out. She was surely soaking by now, and Draco had since moved his other hand to between her thighs and rubbed her clit with his thumb. 

 

When she let out a particularly loud whimper, Draco stopped and pulled out. Her lips went into a pout as she twisted her head to look at him. There was a mischievous glint in his eye as he removed his hand too and brought it up to her cheek, cradling her face. “Thought I told you to be quiet?” he whispered, brushing their noses together. 

 

She clenched her thighs together at his words and let out a quiet moan. Draco kissed her slowly, still cradling her face and instead took his hand from her hip to push her thighs apart slightly. He slipped himself back inside her and picked up his pace once more. Hermione tilted her head into her pillow, to muffle her moans and whimpers. Draco’s grip on her sides was tight, the pleasure that had been rising before was surfacing again. She bucked her hips backwards towards him and clenched her thighs tighter, hoping to bring herself some sort of release. She needed it, Merlin she needed it. “Don’t stop, Draco…” she groaned, her fingers curled into the pillow and sheets. “ _ Please _ .” 

 

He let out a low growl and picked up his speed, one of his hands once again darting to the swollen flesh in between her thighs. His fingers found her clit and he wasted no time in finding his rhythm, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. She couldn’t stop moaning into her pillow, her knuckles had surely gone white and she could feel sweat trickling down her back and thighs. 

 

It felt never-ending: the pressure mounting inside her and then ebbing away, before building all over again. Draco was panting heavily from behind her, and then finally, she exploded. Her legs twitched and her breath left her in a rush. She arched her back and buried her cry into the fabric of her pillow. Draco tightened his grip on her hips and bit into the skin of her shoulder. His movements slowed and she was able to catch her breath. Her body felt limp, weightless as they lay there, covered in sweat and panting. “I love you,” Draco murmured in her ear. 

 

Hermione rolled over to face him, a smile on her face. She kissed his nose and cupped his cheek with her hand. “I love you too, Draco.” 

 

* * *

 

The four of them had just tucked into breakfast when a knock sounded on the front door. Hermione exchanged a curious look with Draco who shrugged as Ted got up quickly. “Probably a Member of the Order,” the older wizard said, but Hermione didn’t miss him pulling his wand out of his pocket and holding it steady in front of him. 

 

Hermione strained to hear who their visitor was, but the voices were muffled. Both Draco and Andromeda had gone stiff, ignoring their breakfast. Ever since they had received the news that Narcissa and Lucius would be questioned, they were on edge every time an Order member stopped by. Hermione couldn’t blame them, not in the slightest. Footsteps grew louder and a moment later, Ted and Lupin entered the kitchen. 

 

Remus nodded at Hermione before turning to Draco, his hands in his pockets. “We’re interviewing your parents tomorrow.” 

 

Andromeda’s fork clattered to her plate and Draco nearly choked on his tea. “ _ Tomorrow?”  _ he gasped as his coughing seized. Remus nodded, his features grim and tired. Andromeda and Draco exchanged glances, their mouths hanging open slightly. “When will we know?” Andromeda asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

 

A silence fell over the kitchen as they all awaited Lupin’s answer. Ted was still standing in the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets, his shabby and tattered robes hanging off his lanky frame. “One of us should be around later in the day tomorrow,” he told them. 

 

“Right then,” muttered Andromeda, who pushed away her plate and stood up quickly from the table. “Thank you, Remus,” she said before dismissing herself from the kitchen. Ted followed her, and Remus, who seemed to realize he was now alone with them, inhaled sharply and said, “I better get going then. Take care.” 

 

Hermione turned to look at Draco and found that he was staring out the window above the sink, his mouth still hanging open slightly. Hermione licked her lips and said, “Draco?” 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Are you alright?” she asked, getting out of her chair now to stand by him. She rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Draco looked up at her, a dazed look on his face. He blinked, then frowned, lost in thought. “I’m a little nervous,” he said quietly. “I want it to go well but what if it doesn’t?” 

 

She frowned as she brushed his fringe away from his eyes. “Don’t let your optimism fade, Draco. Sometimes all you can do is hope for the best. There’s no way of knowing how the interview is going to go, and there’s no use worrying over something you can’t control.” 

 

He nodded and tilted his head to look up at her. “Right,” he muttered. “Of course.” 

 

She kissed the top of his head and ruffled his hair before sitting back down. “What do you say we finish our breakfast and then we can go out to the pond if you’d like? Go for a swim?” He agreed and picked up his fork again, digging into what was left of his breakfast. 

 

* * *

 

They’d spent the rest of the previous day trying to keep themselves busy. For both of their sakes, they had tried to keep their optimism high. They hadn’t seen much of Andromeda and Ted that day, but Hermione didn’t mind this. She had a feeling this was something she didn’t wish to discuss with either one of them. The day seemed to slip by quickly, and before Draco and Hermione knew it, night had fallen. They’d settled into bed and after lying next to one another for an hour, Draco had asked her if she was awake and when she told him she was, they went down to the living room, lit the fire and cuddled on the couch, talking about nothing and everything. 

 

The morning had drifted by slowly. Even Andromeda seemed to be struggling to keep herself occupied. Ted had gone out for a few hours, and Draco had gone up to shower around midday. Hermione wandered down to the living room with the same book she had learned all her defensive spells from, when she saw Andromeda sitting on the couch staring blankly ahead. Hermione approached her hesitantly before sitting down next to her. “Are you alright?” 

 

The older witch jumped, a hand on her chest. “Merlin, Hermione!” she gasped. “What did you-- Oh yes, I’m fine.” Then after a moment she said, “The interview could be happening right now.” 

 

Hermione grimaced and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. In truth, she was nervous about the interview with Draco’s parents. If they both agreed to change their allegiance to the Order, there was a chance they would have to meet at some point. There wasn’t an abundance of safe houses, so it was likely that Draco’s parents could end up there with them. She wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of living under the same roof as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy -- especially when she was dating their son. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she said quietly, wringing her hands together. “But all we can do is wait.” 

 

Andromeda nodded and pressed her lips together in an attempt to stop their quivering. “She has a chance to make the right choice,” she said after a moment of silence. “And I just hope she takes it.” 

 

“Narcissa is an intelligent woman,” Hermione said firmly. “And she loves Draco very much. She has every reason to accept the Order’s protection and change her alliance.” 

 

Andromeda looked at her sadly and placed her hand on top of Hermione’s before giving it a tight squeeze. “You are a smart girl, Hermione. But some things are easier said than done.” 

 

Left a bit confused after her conversation with Andromeda, Hermione waited for Draco in their bedroom. She laid down on their bed with her head hanging off the edge. She stared up at the ceiling and heaved a heavy sigh. A few minutes later, she heard the door open and saw Draco enter the room. He’d put on a pair of dress pants and a dress shirt that Andromeda had bought him, and his hair was still slightly damp. When he spotted her on the bed, he stopped and cocked his head. “What are you doing?” 

 

She didn’t answer right away. She was still analyzing her conversation with Andromeda, trying to figure out why the older witch was so doubtful, but she didn’t want to bring that up with Draco. She didn’t want to dampen his spirits and give him reason to worry. “Just thinking about Harry,” she said calmly. “His Aunt and Uncle are awful, you know.” Draco sat down next to her and she lifted herself up to put her head in his lap. His fingers went right to her hair, combing them through her curly strands. 

 

She saw one of Draco’s eyebrows quirk up at her remark. “Really?” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. 

 

Hermione nodded and laced her hands together on her chest. “He doesn’t really talk about it much, and we don’t really ask questions. But I’ve seen them before and they just… You can tell they’re never happy to have him back. Now he has to spend all these weeks there, alone. I’ve just been hoping he’s alright, you know?” 

 

It was Draco’s turn to nod and she could tell he was uncomfortable with the conversation topic. She sat up quickly and brushed away her hair from her face.

 

“Come on,” she said abruptly. “Maybe we can help Andromeda with lunch or something.” 

 

* * *

 

They had just finished eating lunch when it happened. Andromeda was starting the dishes, Ted was wiping down the counters and putting the leftovers away and Hermione and Draco were clearing the table when there was a knock at the door. All four of them froze, each pair glancing at one another. Together, the four of them clambered into the living room and ambushed the front door. Andromeda’s hand clasped around the knob and yanked open the door. To their surprise, Tonks stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable. 

 

After a long moment of silence Tonks said jokingly, “Are you going to let me in or are you all just going to stand there?” 

 

Andromeda and Ted shuffled aside, allowing Tonks to step over the threshold. Her mother rushed her to the living room, and Hermione, Ted and Draco followed the two. Draco found Hermione’s hand as they walked side by side, and pulled her down onto the couch with him. Tonks sighed heavily and toyed with her wand. “So, there’s some good news and some bad news…” 

 

“Good news first,” Draco blurted out. Hermione whipped her head around at him but he ignored her, his gaze fixed on Tonks. Andromeda and Ted had turned to look at him too. 

 

“Alright then,” Tonks breathed. “Erm… Narcissa has agreed to change her allegiance and was granted protection by the Order as well. They don’t know where she’ll be staying at yet, so for now she’ll remain where she is.” 

 

Hermione’s heart was already pounding in her chest at this news. It was... _ wonderful  _ that Narcissa had accepted and joined their side. But she hadn’t missed the absence of Lucius’ name, and it was this little detail that sent her heart into a panic. What was the bad news then? 

 

A muffled sob came from where Andromeda was sitting. When Hermione looked over, she saw Andromeda leaning forward with her hands clasped over her mouth. Ted was rubbing his hand up and down her back. Draco was stiff next to her, his hand gripping hers more firmly now. His jaw was set, and she watched the lump in his throat bob as he swallowed. “And my father?” 

 

Tonks’ face fell and she gave Draco an apologetic look. “He...said he wasn’t ready to change his allegiance yet.” Andromeda gave an audible gasp, and Ted looked anxiously back and forth between Draco and his daughter. Hermione felt the grip on her hand tighten, pain radiating up to her wrist.

 

“ _ Draco _ ...” she whispered. 

 

He glanced down and let go of her hand immediately. His attention turned back to Tonks. “What’s going to happen to him then?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “I doubt you lot would just let him go crawling back to his dear old Master!” 

 

Hermione winced as his voice rose towards the end. She laid a hand on his thigh and gave it a squeeze. “He’s going to a different safe house. He’ll be kept guard by members of the Order at all times,” Tonks informed him. 

 

The silence that settled over the five of them was suffocating. No one wanted to speak. Tonks was staring awkwardly around the room, still fiddling with her wand. Draco sat as still as a statue. Hermione mumbled about making tea and Ted followed her. She was thankful for his presence in the kitchen, as he was the only other neutral party in the ordeal. He stayed close to her and when they were waiting for the kettle to heat up, he placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “Are you alright?” 

 

She nodded, glancing out towards the living room. She could see Draco’s blonde head from here, and Andromeda still in a state of shock in the armchair. “This isn’t going to be easy for him,” she said finally. “Why didn’t his father make the same decision as his mum? Why couldn’t Draco have just this one thing?” She was surprised at the amount of hurt and anger in her voice. 

 

Ted stared at her with furrowed brows and a frown. “I wish I had an answer for you, Hermione. For Draco. But the only person who has the answer is his father.” He was staring out at the living room now, where Draco, Andromeda and Tonks sat in silence. “But he’ll be okay,” he said quietly. 

 

Hermione looked at him, perplexed. Draco’s hopes were just crushed moments ago, and here Ted was, saying he would okay. After everything Draco had been through already, she didn’t know how much he could take. “How do you know that?” she challenged. 

 

Ted shook his head, chuckled to himself and smiled at her. “Because he has you,” he said simply before picking up the tray of tea they had now prepared and returned to the living room. 

 

* * *

 

Immediately upon her return to the living room, Draco had stood up and announced he needed some air. Hermione had followed him to the door and grabbed him by arm, spinning him around to face her. “Draco--”

 

“Just...give me a bit, please,” he said quietly. His jaw was quivering and much as she wanted to refuse and go with him, she nodded and stepped back. 

 

“I’ll come out to check on you in a few hours, okay?” she said. He nodded and left through the front door with a soft click. Hermione sighed at the door and turned around to the other three. Andromeda still looked shocked, though some of the color was coming back to her face. Tonks and Ted were talking by the doorway to the kitchen. Hermione gave herself the task of cleaning up the untouched teacups, and brushed past father and daughter to deposit the dishes in the sink. She took out her wand, waved it over her mug of tea and watched as steam began to rise. 

 

When she looked out the kitchen window, she could see Draco strolling towards the pond. She frowned at his retreating figure and brought the tea to her lips. The warm liquid slid down her throat, immediately soothing her nerves. A moment later, Ted came up beside her and watched Draco sit down by the bank. “When are you going to go and talk to him?” he said, nudging her in the arm. 

 

“A few hours,” she said hoarsely. “He’s pretty angry right now; he doesn’t listen very well when he’s like this.” She let out a small laugh and shook her head. 

 

Ted looked concerned and glanced out the window for a moment longer before tearing away and saying, “I’m going to check on Dromeda. Just...keep an eye on Draco until you go out to talk to him, yeah?” 

 

* * *

 

After Hermione had finished her tea, she went upstairs to her and Draco’s bedroom to perch herself on their bed and watch him through the window. After several minutes had passed, and Draco was still sitting by the bank of the pond, she pulled out the book on defensive spells and jinxes and settled in for a refresher on the subject. As she flipped open to the first chapter, she made a point to remind herself to tell Draco she wanted to teach him some of the spells and jinxes in there. If he was going to stay with the Order, it’d be beneficial for them all if he had a wider range of defense. 

 

She read on until she reached the end of the fourth chapter. She checked her watch. It was nearing dinner time. She shut the book, glanced out the window to find that Draco hadn’t moved in the slightest, and slid off the bed. As she walked downstairs, the smell of roasting chicken filled her nostrils and her stomach grumbled. Andromeda was standing in the kitchen as expected, however Ted was nowhere in sight. “Do you need any help?” she asked upon her entrance. 

 

Andromeda turned and looked at her; Hermione saw that her eyes were red-rimmed. The older witch turned away from her again. Hermione heard her sniffle. “Sure,” she said. “Why don’t you set the table? Dinner is nearly ready.” 

 

Hermione did as she was asked, retrieving three plates from the cabinet and cutlery from the drawer. She wanted to grab a fourth set, but she doubted Draco would be joining them. Andromeda seemed to have read her mind because she said, “I’ve asked Ted to go out and ask Draco if he’s hungry.” 

 

“Right,” Hermione said and went on about her business, setting the table and fetching their drinks. She prepped the salad while Andromeda monitored the vegetables. From the window over the sink, Hermione could see Ted crouching down to talk to Draco. 

 

“So, erm, how are you...how do you feel about all this?” she asked, unable to hold her inquiry a second longer. 

 

Andromeda paused, the wooden spoon hovering over the pan of sizzling vegetables. Her features looked conflicted as her mouth opened and closed several times, no words coming out. Finally, she looked up at Hermione and said, “I’m happy. Really, I am. It’s...it’s a step in the right direction for her. But I’m a bit scared... Do you understand?” she paused, bit her lip and gave Hermione an embarrassed sort of smile. “If she’s placed here, we’ll have our fair share of issues to overcome. And well...it’s not a given that she’ll want to.” 

 

Hermione didn’t quite know what to say. She felt like she had exhausted the phrases, ‘It’ll be okay’, ‘Everything will work out’, and ‘It’ll be fine’; they seemed to be losing their meaning quickly. So instead, she went for, “I can imagine.” She stopped what she was doing, the tongs for the salad clutched in her hand. “I’m a bit nervous too. I mean, like you said, if she’s placed here…” 

 

Andromeda smiled sadly at her then looked out the window at Draco and Ted, both still sitting by the pond. Hermione watched with her, her heart heavy in her chest. She heard Andromeda breath in sharply before she said, “I feel bad for Draco, too. This can’t be easy for him.” She chuckled softly. “Well, I guess this is one of those times where you just have to take it one day at a time. But we’ll manage.” 

 

* * *

 

“We really should stop doing this, you know,” she said thoughtfully as she stood next to him as he sat in the grass. He looked up at her quizzically, then eyeing the blanket and basket she carried in her arms.

 

He stood up and said, “Doing what?” 

 

“Pushing each other away at first,” she said quietly, setting down the blanket and basket. “It never does us any good, does it?” Draco looked out towards the pond, staring at the setting sun beyond the hills. When he didn’t answer, she continued, “I know you’ve sat out here for the last few hours torturing yourself with questions you don’t have answers to.”  

 

When he still didn’t answer, she took the blanket and unfolded it. Next she reached for the basket and pulled out, one by one, at least fifteen glass jars containing blue flames. She sat down and patted the space next to her. Draco followed suit, but was still refusing to look at her, or speak. Finally, after what felt like an eternity he said in a hollow sort of voice, “How do you know?” 

 

“Because it’s what I did after we sent my parents away.” she murmured, her heart aching at the thought of them. “When you can’t change something, we torture ourselves with trying to understand why. Why does Voldemort hate muggles so much? Why am  _ I  _ a muggle-born? Why did it have to be  _ my  _ parents who got sent away? Why did any of it happen and why couldn’t it just be  _ different? _

 

“But you didn’t have the answers. Nobody did. And it took me a few days to realize that. The point is, you may never know why something is the way it is, but life doesn’t stop for you to figure it out. Your dad chose not to join the Order, and you have every right to be upset and angry, but your mum  _ did  _ choose to join the Order, and there’s a very good chance she could end up staying here. And then of course, there’s every obstacle this war is going to throw our way.” She heaved a deep breath when she was finally done with her speech, and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. 

 

“So what?” he snorted harshly. “I’m just supposed to accept that I’m not good enough for my father then?” 

 

“Don’t say that,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. “You are--”

 

“Hermione, if I was a good enough reason to leave that...Gods, I don’t know how one could call it a life, he would have agreed just like my mum did,” he said vehemently. He sat next to her with his legs bent and his arms resting on his knees. 

 

“Maybe your father will change his mind,” she offered, though she knew it would do little to console him. She inhaled sharply before she said, “Don’t push away your mum, Draco. Don’t ignore that happiness because of your father’s decision.” 

 

He nodded, and still he stared out at the pond and the setting sun. Hermione didn’t bother to say anything more on the subject. Instead she scooted closer, looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. For a moment he remained stiff, then he let his body relax and he turned his head to kiss the top of hers. He buried his face in her hair and whispered, “I’m glad I have you.” 

 

“You always will,” she replied. 

 

They sat in silence for a while, watching the sun get lower and lower, closer to the horizon. The sky was starting to turn a dark blue, and the faintest hints of stars could be seen straight above. The chirping of bugs filled the air, and the warm summer breeze rustled through the grass. Draco let his head rest against hers, and slipped his free hand into hers. She had no idea how long they sat like that for, but it wasn’t until long after the sun had gone down that she shivered and suggested they go inside. He helped her pack up the blanket and the jars of flames and with his hand in hers, they made their way back to the house. 

 

Just as she and Draco walked back inside the house, they heard a knock at the front door. They exchanged perplexed glances and each grabbed their wands from their pockets. Draco stepped in front of her, to which Hermione rolled her eyes and stepped around him so they stood side-by-side. When they reached the front door, Draco peered through the peephole. He let out an audible gasp and leapt back. Hermione looked round at him in alarm. “Who is it?” she asked, sounding nervous. 

 

Draco didn’t answer her, however. Instead, he reached out for the doorknob and yanked it open. Hermione’s jaw dropped and she almost lost her grip on her wand. Her breath seemed to escape her as she took in the figure of Narcissa Malfoy standing in the doorway, looking perfectly calm and collected. Not even a hair was out of the place. 

 

“Hello, Draco,” she said softly, her lips spreading into a thin smile. 

  
  
  
  



	37. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24! 
> 
> Okay so this chapter is just one scene, but it worked out well that way, so apologies if you were expecting more to happen this chapter! 
> 
> As always, thank you for your love and comments and support! It means so much to us and we can't believe how much this fic has grown in numbers! You guys are the best!! Follow us on tumblr at hexrmionegranger and avdubs!

**Draco**

 

Draco couldn’t draw a breath. From the moment he had looked through the peephole of the door and seen his mother standing outside, his heartbeat had faltered and his breath had caught in his throat, but it hadn’t stopped him from wrenching open the front door, letting the door handle bounce off the wall when he’d let it go. It had been so long since he’d heard his mother’s voice.

 

_ “I love you, Draco,” she had told him, her voice quiet and hesitant on the morning of September the first, ready to send Draco off to his sixth year at Hogwarts. _

 

_ His expression had remained stony during the interaction, and he looked away from her when she’d smoothed out the collar of his shirt. “Alright,” had been his only response to her. “Mother I need to go, the train’s waiting.” _

 

Looking back on that day now, Draco hated that he’d been so callous towards her. So full of arrogance that he didn’t even want to tell her that he did love her back, and that he wanted her to be safe and careful while he was gone. Without his father in the Manor, and with the threat of Death Eaters being able to enter and exit at their own will, Draco had been terrified leaving his mother in the house alone while he was at school. But his arrogance and need to try and prove that he wasn’t afraid of his task, had meant he’d left her on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters without even giving one glance behind him when he boarded the train.

 

The only means of contact he’d had with her throughout the year had been through various letters, but they hadn’t been as personal or sentimental as they should have been. Many times, she had sent him a letter asking him to be careful, and to ask for help whenever he needed it, but at the time, those requests had made him scoff, and almost always went unanswered. He remembered when Hermione had confronted him about realising he always disappeared whenever he received letters, and it made him think how obvious he had been acting the entire time.

 

Staring at his mother then, however, was like he was finally being rewarded for striving to become good. He’d left the dark path that he’d been thrust onto, and that his mother had never wanted him on in the first place, and now was his time of repentance. It could have been seconds or minutes since his mother had spoken to him: “ _ Hello, Draco _ .” But it was hard for him to will his body and brain to respond to what was happening.

 

She spoke once more to him, her voice just as hesitant and soft as it had been when she had left him at the Hogwarts Express so many months before, “Draco?” Was all she asked.

 

It seemed to have broken him from the paralysis that had taken over him, and in one step he had closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her into his chest in a hug that he wished he could have given her so much sooner. He hugged her tightly, and didn’t remember her feeling so much smaller than him. He could feel the bones of her shoulders which hadn’t been there the last time he had hugged her, he was sure of it. Everything was familiar about her; the hug, the familiar way she smelt, and the way she rubbed his back in soothing circles as she had been doing ever since he was a little boy and would come running to her upset.

 

He thought he would have been strong when this moment came, and that he would be able to be the pillar that she could rely on so she didn’t falter. But the moment he felt her shoulders hitch and heard her cry softly into his chest, his own throat tightened. He’d only ever seen his mum cry a handful of times in his life, and not once had he ever had to have been the person to comfort her from it. He remembered the last time he’d known she was crying, on the morning when he had been set to leave for Hogwarts for the first time with the Dark Mark etched on his arm. He’d been walking from his bedroom ready to go to the parlour to floo to the train station, but on his way past his parent’s bedroom, had heard her crying from inside. It had made his steps falter, and he almost pushed open the door to see if she was alright, but he had shoved his concern aside and marched on; his brain had reasoned that he was meant to care only of himself and his task, and that he didn’t need any distractions.

 

Draco felt her fingers curl into his shirt as she cried against him and he hugged her back tighter, trying to hold her together as he felt a tear slip down his own cheek. He didn’t want to see her cry. He was too overwhelmed that she was there with them, and that she was safe and would continue to be safe; he would make sure of it.

 

It didn’t matter how long they had stood there in front of the door hugging each other, because it meant that she was  _ there _ . He didn’t have to be worrying over the Order telling him that they had found her dead, and he didn’t have to worry about anyone finding her. She was going to be protected now. She was the one to pull back first, and she looked up at him, her eyes slightly red. It struck him then how much she looked like his Aunt Andromeda, after being with the latter for so long.

 

Narcissa lifted her hand up to Draco’s cheek and swiped away the tear that was there. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she told him, her voice so fragile. “I was so...worried, Draco, I thought the worst--”

 

He shook his head and made her stop talking, and gave her a comforting squeeze on the top of her arms. “I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’m more than fine, I’m safe here… The Order have done so much, mum, I’m so glad they managed to find you.”

 

She gave him a small smile and then looked past his shoulder and it was then that he remembered they weren’t alone in the room. He looked to where she was looking and saw Hermione standing a few feet away.

 

“Mum, this is Hermione,” Draco explained to her, and could hear the shaking of his voice from the nerves of introducing them both. The last time they had seen each other in Madam Malkin’s before attending their sixth year, his mum hadn’t been too kind to her. “Hermione Granger. She’s...done so much to help me get here.”

 

Hermione’s lips twitched up in what was meant to be a smile, but showed more nerves than anything. “Thank you so much, Miss Granger,” Narcissa said to her.

 

“It’s okay,” Hermione said, and Draco could tell that she was just as nervous as he was. “And please, call me Hermione…” She said.

 

Remus, who had been the one accompanying Narcissa to Andromeda’s house, stepped forward and walked to Hermione. “We’ll leave you two to catch up. I’ll go get your sister and tell her that you’re here,” he said to Narcissa who nodded and thanked him. He placed a hand on Hermione’s shoulder to persuade her to walk from the room, as she had hesitated and almost looked like arguing that she should stay too. While Draco did appreciate that she wanted to stay there with him, he felt like everything might be a bit more comfortable if he were to talk to his mum by himself… Just at first.

 

The both of them were left alone in the hallway, and Draco started to take notice of how his mum looked. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, showing clearly that she hadn’t had a proper sleep in quite a while. Her cheekbones were a slight bit more noticeable than he remembered them being, but in a sad way, it didn’t surprise him; when the news of his father’s imprisonment had struck, followed by Draco’s task being assigned, Narcissa had oftentimes skipped meals, or only picked at her food. It was clear to Draco that the habit had been kept up, that being the reason for him being able to very easily feel the bones of her shoulders they had hugged.

 

“The living room is just in here,” he spoke, gesturing his hand to their left through the archway that led to the cosy room. He was the first one to step forward and entered the room, and with a wave of his wand, lit the oil lamps on the walls that gave the room that much more of a comfortable feeling. He’d easily adapted to the small rooms of Andromeda and Ted’s house, after growing up in Malfoy Manor where some  _ rooms _ were larger than the first floor of this house it had been a bit strange at first, but now, he didn’t think he could go back to living in such a large place.

 

He stood in the middle of the living room and watched as his mum walked in and looked around at first. He saw as a smile touched her lips, and she headed straight for the fireplace and began to look at the pictures displayed on the mantlepiece. One hand came to her mouth, her fingers pressed lightly against her lips as she looked at every single photograph, and Draco realised that this was probably the first time in over twenty years she had seen what her sister had grown up to look like.

 

“Aunt Andromeda is really great,” Draco blurted out after some time of watching his mum look at the pictures.

 

She turned around and gave him a smile and walked away from the fireplace. “You call her Aunt?” She asked, her smile growing.

 

He shrugged, and glanced down at the floor. “Sometimes. It just...comes out. I’ve been living here for so long and it’s hard not to become comfortable around her and--” He trailed off, but the look of concern Narcissa gave him at the abrupt cut off made him continue, “And Ted,” he finished, not wanting to look her in the eye.

 

“Draco,” she said softly and placed her hand on his forearm. “I hope you don’t feel ashamed that you think well of your Aunt and Uncle,” she told him.

 

He bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m not ashamed… I didn’t understand at first. But it’s gotten easier.”

 

Narcissa smiled at that and gave his arm a soft squeeze. “And… Andromeda knows about me being released?” She asked, and it made him get a flash of a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach hearing that… She had technically been held by the Order as a prisoner up until her interview, and it wasn’t something he wanted to think about in that sense. 

 

“She does,” he answered her question. “But she didn’t know it was today, or that you were coming here. Neither did I, actually,” he said.

 

“I hope that I didn’t shock you too much,” she smiled.

 

He shook his head and the corners of his lips curled upwards. “You did. But I’m glad you’re here… I’ve…” He hesitated. It had been so long since he had been so candid with anyone but Hermione, let alone his mother. As he had grown older, especially first attending Hogwarts at age eleven, he had drifted farther from her in the sense of sharing his emotions, but rather had taken to copying what he saw of his father: being in control, strong, and not displaying any weakness. “I’ve missed you,” he finished.

 

“And I’ve missed you too, Draco, more than you’ll ever know,” she assured him. “It wasn’t even a question on whether I would defect to the Order or not. Knowing you were here, I knew what I had to do.”

 

The comment made his smile fade, since it brought attention to the very noticeable absence of someone in the room. “It wasn’t enough for dad,” he said, his voice quiet.

 

When Narcissa didn’t answer right away, he understood that she was just as disappointed as he was. Perhaps even angry too. “I tried to convince him, Draco,” she said softly. “He...doesn’t know how he can switch sides after everything that he’s been involved in.”

 

“ _ And _ ?” Draco snapped, his anger rising. “I got out of it! I was forced into this mess and even though it was almost too late, I changed!”

 

“I understand Draco, I do,” Narcissa said quickly and placed her hand on his arm to try and calm him down. “But the Dark Lord is angr--”

 

“Don’t call him that,” he cut her off, and instantly regretted his tone of voice when he saw her expression. “I’m sorry,” he apologised at once.

 

“No, you’re right, I shouldn’t use that name, I--” She started to say, but was cut off once more.

 

“Cissa?”

 

Both Draco and Narcissa turned their heads to Andromeda who was standing by the archway of the living room. He heard his mother’s breath catch in her throat as she looked at the older sister she hadn’t seen in so long; the person she had been forced to stop thinking of and never be allowed to mention. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to imagine what it felt like for them both to see each other after so long, but from the expressions on both of their faces he knew that they probably hadn’t been able to imagine either.

 

Andromeda was the first to move, and she walked over to them and reached across to take Narcissa’s hand slowly. No time passed at all before Narcissa wrapped her arms around her older sister and hugged her tightly. Draco felt like he was intruding on something he shouldn’t be seeing, and felt that even more so when he heard a sniffle coming from one of them.

 

He stayed on the couch and looked away, feeling like he should give them some privacy. Andromeda pulled back from the hug and placed her hand on Narcissa’s cheek. “I never thought we’d get this moment,” she said. 

 

Narcissa nodded in agreement and swiped a finger under her eye to brush away a tear that had fallen. “If only it had been under different circumstances.”

 

The both of them sat down on the couch opposite and silence filled the room again. Draco’s mind was reeling and he began to tap his hand on his knee, willing for  _ someone _ to speak, but nothing came.

 

“I should probably go tell Hermione that everything is okay,” Draco said and stood up from the couch. He’d lasted a minute in silence before he couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“Wait,” Narcissa said, reaching her hand out to take Draco’s and keep him from moving away. He swallowed hard, thinking that this was the moment that both he and Hermione hadn’t been ready for, but didn’t move from where he stood. “I want to ask you about Miss Granger,” his mother continued.

 

He nodded and his eyes darted to Andromeda who gave him a small encouraging smile. “You can call her Hermione,” he said at first. “What do you want to ask me?”

 

Narcissa must have sensed his unease and gave his hand a small squeeze before letting go, and she smiled at him similarly to how Andromeda had. “Is Hermione just a friend, or is she someone more important to you?”

 

He got another surge of nervousness, but the rational part of his mind told him that it shouldn’t be worrying him. If his mother was upset about any of it, she wouldn’t be sitting as calmly as she was with a smile on her face, encouraging him to talk. “She’s more important to me than I ever thought possible,” he finally responded, putting his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting nervously.

 

Of all the reactions he’d imagined his mother having to the news of his relationship with Hermione, a smile wasn’t one of them. It seemed that even Andromeda was slightly surprised, but hid it well; better than Draco did, anyway. “You were afraid to tell me, weren’t you?” Narcissa asked him, and he didn’t bother lying, and nodded. “Draco, I would never be angry at you over who you decide to befriend or have a relationship with.”

 

“But she’s not a Pureb--”

 

“That doesn’t matter,” Narcissa stopped him before he could finish. “If any of those petty ideas meant anything to me, I would still be at the Manor with everyone else who has those thoughts,” she said. “I’ve lost someone dear to me from those ideals already,” she said, reaching her hand out to place it on Andromeda’s knee, “And I am not prepared to lose my son from them either.” Draco was slightly shellshocked. Really, he should have guessed all along, or hoped so more, that his mother would be understanding of the situation. She’d shown more than enough times how dearly she loved him regardless or anything. “From what I’ve gathered and been told briefly, Hermione is the whole reason you’re standing here today safe and alive.”

 

“That’s right,” Draco nodded and a small smile played on his lips.

 

“How could I disapprove of the girl who saved my son’s life? How could I disapprove of her after she has brought you away from what we both know would have surely killed you?” Narcissa’s voice faltered and wavered, but she stayed strong. “I’ve only been around you for an hour, Draco, and I can already tell that you’ve changed, but in a good way. You’re not the same boy that I left at the train station last year, and I’m certain that Hermione played a very big part in ensuring that.”

 

“She did,” he said. “We wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t believed in me and helped me get out of that mess…”

 

“Her and Remus are sitting in the kitchen,” Andromeda told him, and he thanked her and left the living room. He stopped in the hallway and let out a breath and sagged his shoulders, only then realising how tense he’d been for so long. He closed his eyes and leant back against the wall and counted to ten, gathering his thoughts enough to continue on. The events of the past hour had all been so sudden and unexpected that he could just tell he was going to be awake all night analysing every second of what had happened.

 

As soon as he entered the kitchen, Hermione lifted her gaze from a mug in front of her, and stood up from the table. “How is everything?” She asked and walked to stand in front of him.

 

“Okay,” Draco told her, and then gave a small smile. “Better than okay. I told her about us,” he admitted.

 

Her eyes widened slightly. “How did she take it?” She asked.

 

“We really didn’t have anything to worry about,” Draco told Hermione. “She understands that without you, I most likely wouldn’t be here right now and she wouldn’t either. She’s glad that you’ve managed to help.” He saw the faint flush of red on her cheeks and watched her let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t blame her; the idea of Narcissa rejecting the idea of them had been worrying her just as much as it had been worrying himself. “She wants to see you,” he said.

 

“Me?” Hermione asked. “Just me?”

 

“No,” he assured her quickly. “I’m coming too. And Andromeda’s in there still.”

 

She agreed, and just as they went to leave the kitchen, they looked back at the table. The chair Remus sat on scraped against the tiles slightly as he stood up. “I’m going to take my leave. Tell your Aunt that Tonks and I will be around tomorrow,” he said to them both.

 

The wizard walked past the both of them out into the hall and just as he reached the door, Draco spoke up. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “For helping bring her here.” Remus didn’t give much of a reaction but a small smile, and then bid them farewell and left the house, closing the door firmly behind him.

 

On the way to the living room, Hermione’s hand darted out to grab Draco’s just before they entered. From the tight grip she had on his fingers, he knew that her nerves were kicking in. It felt like she could just about break his bones when they actually walked in and both Andromeda and Narcissa turned their heads to look. It was under his mother’s look, that Hermione let go of his hand quickly and he wanted to tell her that it was okay; that his mother really did understand and she didn’t need to be afraid.

 

Draco took the initiative of placing his hand on Hermione’s back and making her sit down in the armchair while he sat on the arm of it, his hand down by her side, fingers brushing against her leg where no one could see, just as his bit of comfort towards her.

 

“I’m sure that Draco’s already told you that I now know about the both of you,” Narcissa spoke after a few tense moments of silence.

 

Hermione nodded quickly. “He did. I-- Thank you for understanding,” she said.

 

“Like I told my son, I couldn’t disapprove or think any less of you after you’ve had a hand in saving Draco from what was to come of him after the task he was set,” Narcissa told her. “And I don’t hold the beliefs of what the Death Eaters have, anymore. Not after all the mess it’s caused… The people I’ve lost because of it.”

 

Draco bit the inside of his cheek and looked down at his lap. He wasn’t surprised that Hermione didn’t answer straight away; even  _ he _ was at a loss for words, and it was his own mother speaking!

 

“No matter if Draco and I had ended up in a relationship or not, I would have tried my hardest to help him out of what had been happening,” Hermione said. “Regardless of our past together, which I’m sure you know about… I’m not the sort of person to be able to have a hunch of what’s going on, and not find out what it truly is and  _ not _ help.”

 

“And that is very admirable of you,” Narcissa smiled and Andromeda nodded in agreement too. “I hope that you can accept my apology for the way I’ve treated you in the past. And your friends.”

  
  


Draco saw Hermione nod, and had a fair guess on what she was thinking. He knew she wouldn’t forgive his mother that easily. It had taken a significant amount of time for him to earn his forgiveness from being so horrid to her in their earlier years, so he knew her granting his mother forgiveness wouldn’t be as easy as her apologising and it being over with.

 

A silence fell over the four of them and Draco looked down at Hermione and gave her a small smile. Her lips twitched upwards and her hand snuck up to take his again, her grip tight. He gave her a squeeze back and then decided to break the silence. “Lupin’s left. He said he’ll be back tomorrow with Tonks,” he said to his Aunt.

 

“It was good of him to come out so late,” Andromeda said. “I’ll be able to thank him tomorrow.”

 

Narcissa looked at her sister as she spoke, a confused look on her face and it dawned on Draco that his mother knew Lupin was a werewolf. Would she not like to be around the next day when it wasn’t necessary that he be near her after helping bring her to Andromeda’s? He remembered back to his third year, back to when he’d arrived home with his parents and listened to them both discuss how a werewolf should never have been allowed in the walls of the school. He’d listened to them talk about how he was more animal than man, and shouldn’t have been trusted around children, let alone their precious son… Thinking back to it made him feel sick in the stomach. He’d adopted those thoughts to himself, but after being around Remus more than a handful of times, saw that he and his parents had been very wrong -- about werewolves, and the majority of other things.

 

Instead of Draco’s initial thoughts, his mother surprised him by asking, “Tonks?” She asked. “Your husband isn’t here now?”

 

Andromeda smiled and laughed softly. “No, no my husband isn’t in at the moment. My daughter insists on being called Tonks,” she explained.

 

“Not Nymphadora?” Narcissa asked and her brows were furrowed.

 

“Ever since she was old enough to know better, she’s never liked to have been called it,” Andromeda said with a fond smile.

 

“But Nymphadora is a lovely name!” Narcissa said, and Draco looked at Hermione who was smiling, covering it with her palm. He smiled too; it was evident how similar his mum and aunt were, just from that statement alone. He’d been told from Hermione after he’d first met Tonks about the hatred the witch held for her own name and as such, had wanted to be called Tonks as soon as she could decide to. Now, whenever Tonks had came to the house while Draco and Hermione were there, he couldn’t help but find the look on Tonks’ face humorous whenever her mother called her by her given name.

 

“Which is exactly why I named her,” Andromeda laughed softly. “But I’ve given up on trying to have any control on her… She’s her own person, always has been.”

 

Draco saw his mother give a small smile at that and look down at her lap. He bit the inside of his cheek before standing up. “I think you should go to bed, mum,” he said. “All of us, really. You need to rest.” It felt odd saying that, he thought. He wasn’t used to seeing his mum like this, or having the initiative to stand up and try to fix it. He knew that _ he  _ was completely overwhelmed by this night, but had no idea how his mother was coping with it. Not only did she have to deal with her emotions of coming to him again, but also had to deal with reuniting with her sister, and meeting Hermione. Topped off with the fact that his father had decided not to join her, and she’d been staying in Merlin knows what condition while waiting to be questioned by the Order… 

 

“I think that’s a good idea,” Narcissa agreed and stood up from the couch, as did Andromeda and Hermione.

 

“Come on, I can show you around the house quickly so you know where everything is if you need it,” Andromeda said to her, and the both of them left the living room leaving Hermione and Draco alone.

 

His shoulders sagged as he let out a breath and turned to look at Hermione. “That went…” She started, and trailed off.

 

“Better than we thought it would,” he said with a crooked smile.

 

“Exactly,” she nodded and stepped forward to give him a tight hug before she stood back. “I’m going to get myself some water, you should go up and see your mum. Make sure she settles in okay,” she said, and Draco agreed and let his arms drop from around her.

 

He had just reached the top floor when he saw Andromeda stop with his mum outside the guest bedroom next to his and Hermione’s. “This is where you’ll be staying,” Andromeda told her sister. “It’s small, but--”

 

“It’ll do,” Narcissa smiled. “It’s only for sleep after all.”

 

The both of them turned to the staircase when Draco reached the top and his foot pressed on a particularly noisy floorboard. Not a few seconds later, Hermione came up behind him and pressed her hand against the small of his back to get him moving off the stairs. He walked over to his mum and aunt while Hermione went to their bedroom to wait.

 

“I’ve been shown where everything is,” Narcissa told him, “It’s a lovely house, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” he nodded and scratched the back of his neck. “It is…” He didn’t know why he was feeling more awkward than he had downstairs, maybe it was to do with the quiet that had fallen over them all. “Night mum,” he said after a few seconds as he hugged her, deciding to break the silence, and then stood up straight again. He was very aware of Andromeda waiting by the guest bedroom door and Hermione staying by their own bedroom door, waiting for him. He wasn’t really sure why.

 

“Where will you be sleeping?” Narcissa asked. “I only saw two guest bedrooms when Andromeda showed me around, I haven’t put you out of a room, have I?” She asked in concern.

 

Draco bit the inside of his cheek and hoped to Merlin that his embarrassment didn’t show on his face. “Uh, I…” He pointed his thumb back over his shoulder towards his and Hermione’s bedroom where she was still standing by the doorway. He didn’t want to look his mum in the eye because he knew she’d  _ never _ have allowed him to be sleeping in the same room as a girl, regardless of who she was. To avoid her eyes, he looked past her to Andromeda who had a small smile on her face, visibly trying not to laugh, and he bit his cheek even harder to keep serious.

 

“Oh…” Narcissa said and then saw how Hermione was more in the bedroom than she was out of it. “ _ Oh _ ,” she said once more when she fully realised. “...Goodnight Draco,” she said to him after a few seconds, then looked behind him. “Goodnight Hermione.”

 

“Night, Mrs Malfoy,” Hermione said quietly and she watched with Draco as Narcissa went into the bedroom after Andromeda who began to talk to her. Draco headed into the bedroom with Hermione and walked straight to the bed and flopped onto his back with a groan. “I can’t believe that just happened!” Hermione said as soon as she shut the door tightly.

 

“ _ You _ can’t believe it?! That was the most horrific thirty seconds of my life,” he complained and put his hands on his face.

 

Hermione laughed and he felt the mattress depress when she climbed on, and the next second she was straddling him. “It could have been worse,” she said, “She could have actually told one of us to go sleep in the living room.”

 

“Or she could have expressed her disappointment that I was sharing a room with a girl,” he added and took his hands off his face and instead put them on Hermione’s knees.

 

“We’re not doing  _ anything _ but sleeping in here while she’s in that other room,” Hermione said and leaned down so she was laying on his chest and his arms wrapped around her.

 

“I agree,” Draco said with no complaints. “ _ Andromeda and Ted  _ could bloody hear us and they’re not even in the room next door.”

 

Hermione groaned into his shoulder and shook her head. “Don’t remind me… I’ve never been so embarrassed before…”

 

He smiled against her hair and the two of them lay in silence, and he began to rub her back slowly. After a few minutes, his hand slowed when he heard something muffled, and he strained to listen closer. 

 

Hermione’s head lifted up from his chest and she started to listen too. “It’s your mother and Andromeda,” she said. “They’re talking.” They both fell into silence again and listened to the sound of muffled conversation through the wall, not quite hearing what they were talking about or what the tone of the conversation was.

 

“I’m glad they’re okay seeing each other,” Draco said, resting his head back down. “I guess I was scared for how they’d react to being around each other, just like I was scared for how she’d react to us… But they both seem so normal.”

 

“Maybe it’s just a sibling thing?” Hermione mused. “Even though it’s been so many years, they look like they’re completely fine around each other…”

 

He hummed in agreement. “It probably is,” he said. “There’s no anger between them either.”

 

“I think after everything they’ve been through, anger is the last emotion they want to be feeling,” Hermione said and lifted her hand up to his neck and traced lines up and down with her index finger. “I’m sure the both of them felt their different types of anger back in the day when the wounds were fresh. Not now though. There’s no need for any more negativity in life, really.”

 

He nodded and let out a sigh. He glanced over at the side table by their bed and his eyes widened when he saw the time. “It’s two in the morning,” he told her, and she turned her head to look at the clock too.

 

“Time flies…” She murmured and removed herself from on top of him and started to get undressed to change into her pyjamas. He lay back, staring at the ceiling until she nudged his leg and told him that he needed to get ready for bed and that sleep would do them good. Five minutes later, the both of them under the blanket, Hermione had tucked herself against his side with her hand on his chest. “I’m so proud of how you did tonight,” she told him. “I know how worried you were about this all, but everything worked out fine.”

 

“It did, didn’t it?” He mused, and found it surprising that he’d managed to keep his head screwed on throughout the confusing past few hours.

 

“Maybe that’s a sign that other things might not be so hard as we keep working them up to be,” she said quietly.

 

Draco turned his head and his lips brushed against her forehead as he spoke. “We don’t want to lose our edge though,” he said. “There might not constantly be a silver lining.” She didn’t respond to them and he could guess that it was because she understood he was correct. Just because one thing had worked out easier than the both of them had thought, didn’t mean they should let their guard down on every occasion to come where they would think that hardships may occur.

 

He could feel the faint and familiar stirrings of a headache brewing behind his eyes and he let his eyelids shut. 


	38. Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me. Sooooo we'll still be uploading once a week, but it won't always be on Sundays/Mondays anymore. We've got other stuff going on, and at this point in time it's sometimes taking us a bit longer to get the chapter finished. Hope you guys enjoy, and thanks for all your comments and love! Sorry it took me a bit longer with this one, but hopefully it was worth the wait.

It was rare that Hermione woke up before Draco, or rather, it was rare that he  _ wasn’t  _ awake when she roused from her slumber. But when her eyes cracked open the next morning and saw his sleeping form next to her, she told herself there was a first time for everything, and given the events of the following night, she didn’t blame him for needing a bit of a lie in. She slipped out of bed quietly and grabbed her wand off the bedside table before heading downstairs. 

 

The sky outside was a bright orange and pink, yet the sun was not visible over the horizon. She stifled a yawn, and wondered how on Earth she was awake right now. She couldn’t have gotten more than four hours of sleep. And though her eyelids felt like weights and her body was aching to crawl back under the covers, her mind was wide awake. 

 

The house was quiet; it didn’t seem as though Andromeda or Ted had woken up yet. Her bare feet padded along the wooden floorboards as she made her way to the kitchen. Her stomach grumbled; last night’s dinner felt like years ago, not hours. She had just begun to daydream about a steaming cup of tea, some oatmeal and toast when she spotted a head of long blonde hair sitting at the kitchen table. Hermione froze just outside the archway to the kitchen. She  _ could _ turn back now and wait a bit; she wasn’t quite ready to be alone with Draco’s mother yet. Their interaction last night had been rather awkward, and she didn’t want to endure it again. But as she stepped backward, Narcissa had turned around. Their eyes locked, and Hermione was still standing with one foot retreating, rooted to the spot. It was Narcissa who spoke first. “Good morning, Hermione.” 

 

Her throat was dry, and her brain had gone blank. She blinked and shook her head, trying to compose herself. “Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy.”

 

When Narcissa turned back around, Hermione felt she had no other choice but to continue on with her plan for breakfast. So she shuffled into the kitchen and rummaged in the cabinet for a mug and tea leaves. It was while she was retrieving the pack of oatmeal that Narcissa said, “Did you sleep well?”

 

The casual question caught her off guard. She paused for a moment, cleared her throat and replied, “For the short amount of time that I did, yes. Thank you. Am I correct in assuming you didn’t manage much sleep?” 

 

She heard a soft chuckle from behind her as she began to prepare her oatmeal and set the kettle over the fire. “You are, yes.” Silence fell between them again, though now the air felt tense. It wasn’t until Hermione had sat at the table across from her and was adding sugar to her tea when Narcissa spoke again. “Hermione, I feel like I did not thank you properly--”

 

“Oh, please,” she gushed, her cheeks immediately blushing at her unexpected interruption. “Mrs. Malfoy you don’t--”

 

But Narcissa held up a hand and Hermione fell quiet at once. “I lost many years with my sister because of my beliefs. And I meant it last night when I said I refuse to lose my only son -- my only child -- because of who he fell in love with. Oh yes,” she said with a small smile at the look of surprise on Hermione’s face. “I know Draco loves you. Aside from the fact that he practically told me himself, I can see it in the way he looks at you.” 

 

Hermione remained quiet. She had a feeling the elder witch wasn’t finished, and she was right. Narcissa drew in a deep breath and said, “And I see the way you look at him. As a mother, this is hard to say, but I know my son is not perfect. He has his flaws, like the rest of us. I am also referencing the events of this year and the end of last. I know people will judge him in the future -- for years to come, they will remember. But you, you cared for him and loved him in a spite of all of this. And for that...I can never thank you enough.”

 

Hermione’s cheeks were burning at this point. She hadn’t the faintest idea what to expect while alone with Narcissa Malfoy, but this was definitely not it. When she’d managed to compose herself, she said hoarsely, “I love your son very much.” She looked Narcissa directly in the eyes then, and held her hot mug of tea with both hands. “He’s not who he appears to be on the outside. He’s gentle, and sensitive, and...brilliant…” she trailed off, aware that she was beginning to ramble. 

 

Narcissa was smiling genuinely now, the faintest hint of wrinkles crinkling at the corner of her eyes. When the elder witch remained silent, Hermione started on her oatmeal and found that it had gone a bit cold. She cast a reheating charm with her wand and was about to take a spoonful when Narcissa said quietly, “Thank you for not giving up on him.” 

 

Hermione watched silently, stunned, as Narcissa got up from the table, dropped her mug in the sink and swept out of the kitchen. The only other sound she heard was her oatmeal flopping back into her bowl.

 

* * *

 

They were sitting out in the yard, laid out on a blanket, their socks and shoes kicked off. For the middle of July, it was on the cooler side today, and large, grey clouds hung above them. Draco had been doodling on a piece of parchment, and Hermione was still amazed that he could draw star charts on the whim like this. When she commented on this, he blushed and muttered something about how he was just always really interested in astronomy. Hermione smiled at him fondly and chose this moment to tell him what happened earlier that morning. 

 

“I talked to your mum this morning,” she said, propping herself up on one elbow while he sketched. At her words, his quill froze and he looked up at her with worry.

 

“What happened?” he asked, laying down his quill now, and gave her his full attention. 

 

Hermione chuckled. “It was fine. It was...more than fine, actually. She, erm... Didn’t seem to think the thanks she had given me last night was sufficient enough.” 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“Well,” she said, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “She said she knows that we love each other...and--and she’s okay with that because it means that,” she inhaled deeply, “That I never gave up on you. And I stuck by you. She said it meant a lot to her.” 

 

Draco swallowed hard, clearly at a loss for words at the moment. Hermione placed her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad she was kind to you,” he said quietly. 

 

“Me too,” she said. “Quite honestly, I’m still a bit shocked she’s alright with us. I mean, it was like she barely batted an eye!” 

 

He looked as though he were about to say something but she heard him mutter, “Nevermind.” His focus fell back to his star chart. She took that as her cue to leave him be again, and laid back down to look up at the cloudy sky. The clouds were growing darker; it looked as though it might pour any minute. She heard the scratching of Draco’s quill and she knew he’d gone back to sketching his star chart. With the cool breeze tickling her skin and the sounds of birds chirping in the distance along with the sound of Draco’s quill, her eyes slowly began to drift shut. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night; a nice, little nap could do her some good... 

 

Something wet splashed against her eyelid. She blinked rapidly and shot up. “What the--?” But her question was answered when another drop of water hit the top of her head. More were falling now against her arms, her feet, the blanket they were laying on.

 

Draco had already rolled up his parchment and stuffed it into his pocket. He stood up quickly and helped her up. “Come on,” he muttered, reaching for the blanket, “before it starts to pour.” 

 

They rolled up the blanket as more droplets fell from the sky, a slow drizzle falling over them now. It was a decent walk from where they lay in the yard to the house, and even at a run they were sure to get wet. Draco reached for her hand, and his flesh was warm against her skin, a sharp contrast from the cool rain falling steadily now upon them. There was a loud crack from behind them. They both whipped their heads in time to see a flash of lightning. She couldn’t help but yelp at the sound, and they both stared up at the dark, threatening clouds as a crash of thunder rumbled overhead. 

 

“Draco, we really should--” But when she looked at him, she froze in mid-sentence. His cool, grey eyes were burning into her; she’d never seen him look at her with such an intensity. She cocked her head, and just as she opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, he pulled her towards him, so their lips were mere inches from each other. He searched her features frantically, but for what she didn’t know. He licked his lips, the rain was beginning to glue his blonde locks to his forehead. “I think I know why my mum thanked you again this morning,” he said loudly over the rain, which was starting to fall harder now. He licked his lips again and gripping her face more tightly he said, “Last night I--I told you her that you meant more to me than I ever thought possible, and I meant it. With every part of me, I meant that.” 

 

Both of them leaned forward and their lips came together. A roaring fire burst inside her as she wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing them together as close as she possibly could. Their clothes were soaked at this point, the rain so thick around them now as they kissed. He kissed her with fervor, his tongue searching and tasting every inch of her mouth, swallowing her moans the moment they escaped her throat. The air had left her lungs, she could no longer breathe and she didn’t care. She’d never been kissed like this, and she was going to savor every single second of it. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione and Draco were sitting on their bed, their backs against the headboard, a book in her lap. The cool, summer breeze drifted in through their open window; the moon casting its light in their dimly lit room. Draco sat with his eyes closed as she read to him. There had been many novels written by various witches and wizards that neither one of them had ever read, and exploring them together was something they’d both come to enjoy. It was in the brief pause of one the sentences that they both heard it: muffled voices coming from the other side of the wall. “Hold on,” he said, holding up his hand and opening his eyes. “That’s my mum and aunt again.” 

 

Hermione strained her ears and sure enough, could hear two muffled voices and something that sounded like crying. She closed the book and sat up in bed. Draco had already gotten up and walked over to the wall to hear them better. “Draco!” she scolded in a whisper. “You really shouldn’t eavesdrop, it’s--” 

 

Draco hushed her and held up a hand. Her eyebrows shot up in shock. She got off the bed and stalked over to the wall, slightly annoyed that he’d silenced her. “Draco, get away from--”

 

“They’re talking about my dad!” he whispered angrily. 

 

She couldn’t help but press her ear against the wall as well, trying her best to make out their conversation.  _ If only I had a pair of Extendable Ears right now... _ she thought miserably. The walls were thin, but even then they couldn’t hear every word the two witches were saying. She did however, hear Lucius’s name tossed around once or twice, and Draco’s as well. There were more sobs, presumably from Narcissa. Hermione’s heart sank and she stepped away from the wall. 

 

“Draco,” she said, reaching for his hand. “We really shouldn’t…” 

 

He nodded, and slowly he stepped away from the wall as well. He kept his gaze to the floor, but she didn’t miss his clenched jaw or the stiffness of his posture. She led him back to the bed; he sat down on the edge but had his back turned to her. Tentatively, she placed a hand on his back. They hadn’t spoken much of his father since the news, but she’d noticed the little jerks of his fingers of the twitch of his eye every time someone brought up his father’s name. “You know what the worst part of all this is?” he asked, his voice constricted and strained. 

 

“What?” she said, scooting closer to him on the edge. 

 

“I know my dad loves me. He was always on me about my grades, and maybe sometimes the pressure was a bit much as I got older. But he always stood up for me.” Hermione faintly recalled the fuss Lucius Malfoy made third year after Draco insulted Buckbeak and was attacked by the hippogriff. “I mean, it was like you said in the courtyard second year. My dad bought my way onto the Quidditch team… Bought us brooms too.” He laughed bitterly. “There once was a time where my father gave me everything and anything I wanted, and the time that all I want is for him to be safe and with my mum and I...he can’t give it to me.” She was about to speak when he added, “It’s all my mum wants, and he can’t even do this for her. He’s...he’s too much of a coward.” 

 

Her mouth dropped open in shock. She didn’t think she’d ever hear Draco call his father a coward. He’d threatened Harry for saying exactly the same thing in their fifth year and then again in Madam Malkin’s before the start of their sixth. And now, here sat Lucius’ own son, calling him the exact same thing. She couldn’t believe her ears. “Draco,” she said softly, making him turn his head to look at her. “Him declining the Order does not mean he doesn’t love you. Maybe...maybe he is weak, right now. But don’t give up on him, alright? Things change, and people change.”

 

Draco nodded, though somewhat reluctantly and let his head rest against her shoulder, and her hand still rest on his back. They sat there in silence, looking out at the starry sky and the glowing moon, Narcissa’s cries still audible through the walls. 

 

* * *

 

Over the course of the next few days, Hermione saw very little of Ted. He was never around for meals, and she couldn’t remember the last time she saw him in the living room with Andromeda. She couldn’t help but wonder if Narcissa’s presence was the reason behind it, but when she addressed Andromeda in private on a misty, Thursday morning, the elder witch laughed and shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, giving Hermione a genuine apologetic look. “I can see why you would think that. No, he’s just been helping with the Order with...well, I suppose you’ll find out in a few days.” 

 

“Well,” she said, leaning against the counter while Andromeda fixed herself a cup of tea. “How are you and Narcissa getting along then? It seems like you two are really hitting it off.” 

 

Andromeda paused, as though thrown off by her question. Her gaze lingered on Hermione for a moment, her head cocked to the side. “You know, at times I forget you are only seventeen,” she said fondly. When Hermione didn’t reply, Andromeda appeared amused and continued. “It’s... _ wonderful  _ having my sister back, but I think we are still rebuilding our relationship. There’s certainly plenty to catch up on,” she added thoughtfully. “But we’re progressing, I think. To be honest, I almost wish Ted had been stuck at home these past few days just so they could get comfortable being in the other’s presence.” 

 

Hermione frowned. “Who are you more worried about?” she asked, before she had time to think about it. She couldn’t really explain why she had become interested in Ted’s absence since Narcissa’s arrival. “I just mean,” she added quickly, “Does Ted...hold anything against your sister? Or are you more worried about how your sister might--”

 

Andromeda shook her head again and sat down at the kitchen table. “No,” she said. “No I’m not so much worried about Narcissa as I am Ted. I don’t know if he’s forgiven her quite yet, but he’d never say so. Not to her, anyway.” 

 

The two witches sat in silence for a moment, Hermione lost in her thoughts and Andromeda sipping her tea. The moment the question popped into her head, she checked over shoulder to make sure neither Draco nor Narcissa were coming and in a low voice said, “Do you think your sister is changed? Or...changing? In regards to her views.” 

 

She saw Andromeda cringe, before she cast Hermione a grave and serious look. “You have to understand Hermione, what it was like growing up in a Pureblood home, especially a Pureblood family like  _ mine.  _ You are told certain opinions and views from the moment you can understand your parents and...you don’t always question these things as children.” When Hermione looked more confused than before, Andromeda sighed heavily and said, “I do not blame Narcissa if this is all secretly taking some getting used to. But I do believe, she is trying her hardest. And it would do well for you to remember that as well.” 

 

Hermione nodded, not quite meeting Andromeda’s gaze. She had allowed Draco the time to readjust and inspect his views; there was no reason she shouldn’t give Narcissa the same courtesy. The Malfoy matriarch had been nothing but polite to Hermione since her arrival, but she hadn’t been able to help herself...to wonder if her actions were genuine or not. “Andromeda,” Hermione said after a moment’s silence. “You said...you said it’s hard for Pureblood children to break away from the views instilled in them but then, how did you?” 

 

Andromeda smiled, gripping her teacup between two hands. There was a twinkle in her eye Hermione had never seen before. “It was no walk in the park, my relationship with Ted. At least not at first,” she started, looking ashamed and guilty for a brief moment. “I was hesitant, and I was desperate to keep us a secret. But...we can’t control who we fall in love with. When I realized that’s how we felt...I chose him,” she said with a shrug and a laugh, shaking her head as her voice grew thick with emotion and nostalgia. “I realized nothing could be done to stop it, our feelings for one another. So...I ran.” 

 

Hermione smiled as images of a young Ted and Andromeda flashed before her eyes. Before she could say a word however, Andromeda leaned forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Narcissa respects you Hermione, because you saved her only son in more ways than one. You unknowingly helped their family more than you can possibly understand, and it is for that that my sister will always be thankful. We are not blind, Narcissa sees what you and Draco have. As I said, all of this,” she gestured around the kitchen, “Is new to her.” She moved one hand under Hermione’s chin and tilted her head up until two pairs of brown eyes met. “Give her time just as you gave Draco time, yes?” 

 

With too many emotions boiling inside her, none of which she could differentiate at the moment, Hermione nodded and rose from the chair slowly. When she reached the doorway, she froze. “I’d run with him,” she whispered fiercely. “If we had to, I’d run with him.” 

 

Andromeda smiled at her, one tear trickling down her cheek. “I don’t doubt you for a second, dear.”

 

* * *

 

Despite the fact that Draco and Hermione were both of age, they were typically not allowed to stay for Order Meetings. So when Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks and Remus came round a few days later, and asked them to join them in the living room, they were quite surprised. Narcissa was asked to stay in her bedroom for the time being. When they were all seated, Mad-Eye looked around at all of them. “Listen up, and listen closely because I’m not repeating the plan. Now, you have the option to opt out of what I’m about to explain to you, and no one is going to blame you if you want to say no.” 

 

Draco exchanged nervous glances with her, and she felt his grip on her hand tighten. Andromeda and Ted exchanged looks. Tonks however, was standing tall and proud, with Remus by her side.

 

Mad-Eye turned to Hermione and Draco first, his magical blue eye boring into them. “You two,” he grunted. “Potter is being escorted from his home on the evening of the twenty-seventh of this month. Now, the plan is to have six of us Polyjuiced as Potter, and each one will be paired with a member of the Order. We’ll all meet at the Burrow; Molly and Arthur have already agreed to partake in the plan. This will be dangerous. We’ll need both of you to be disguised as Potter.” 

 

“I’ll do it,” Hermione said immediately, looking Moody directly in the eyes. 

 

Moody surveyed her for a moment then his gaze switched to Draco, who still had not spoken. She was about to tell Draco that he didn’t have to; she didn’t expect him to risk his life, not when he was surrounded by actual family. He had his Aunt and Uncle, and his mother back, finally.

 

She then felt his grip on her hand tighten again as he said, “I’ll do it, too. I’m in.” She didn’t miss the wavering in his voice, but he gave her a reassuring smile nonetheless. 

 

There was another prolonged moment of silence as Mad-Eye studied Draco before he turned to Ted and Andromeda. “The only ones who will be returning here are Hagrid and Potter. Not for long. They’ll take a portkey from here to the Burrow.” 

 

“It’s not a problem, Alastor,” Andromeda responded, waving a hand dismissively. “Whatever you need from us.” 

 

Mad-Eye nodded in approval. “Right, well that’s all I needed to say. I’m going to be on my way-- No, no, I can’t stay,” he said gruffly, shaking his head, as Andromeda had insisted he stay for dinner. “Remus, Tonks, you’re staying I assume?” The latter nodded and Moody grunted in farewell. 

 

“Well, it’ll be a bit before dinner is ready, so make yourselves comfortable, won’t you? Ted, will you fix some tea for everyone?” Andromeda said as she stood to head to the kitchen. Ted nodded and got up to follow her out. 

 

“Actually Ted, just want to make two cups actually. I think Draco and I will step outside,” Hermione said abruptly, before Ted had completely disappeared. She saw Draco give her a confused look, but she shook her head and instead led him past the other four to the backyard. She wrenched open the back door and led them towards the pond. She waited until they stood by the bank, took a deep breath and said, “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” 

 

He frowned at her, as though he had no idea why she was asking such a question. “Yes,” he said, his voice firm. “If you think I’m not going to come with you on this--”

 

“It’s just-- It’s dangerous, Draco! Voldemort is desperate to find Harry, there’s no doubt about it. You could be hurt, or--or killed,” she argued, placing her hands on her hips.

 

“I don’t understand why you’re arguing me on this,” he shot back. “I thought you’d be happy that I’m willing to come along!” 

 

“I am,” she said. “It’s just,” her gaze fell towards the house behind him. His eyes followed hers, and she watched his features soften as he understood what she was trying to say. “You just got them back, Draco,” she said quietly. “I just want to make sure you definitely want to do this, that’s all.” 

 

He stared at the house for a while, and she stood waiting for his reply. She could see the confliction on his features; his shoulders were tensed, his lips were set in a thin line, jaw clenched and brows furrowed. The silence seemed to go on forever, and Hermione was starting to wonder if he would tell her he’d changed his mind. And then he turned around; it was then that she saw the glint in his eye, fierce and determined and dangerous. “I’m doing it.” he said, more firmly than he had in the living room just minutes ago. 

 

A warmth spread through her body, and it had nothing to do with the warm summer night. Draco was looking at her fiercely, his grey eyes piercing hers, and his hand clenched tightly in her own. And she knew then: she knew that he had made up his mind. There were no words she could string together to tell him what it meant to her that he was willing to risk his life, and to risk losing his family for the sake of someone he could hardly tolerate. 

 

Hermione pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, and she nestled her head against his chest. She breathed him in, then looked up. “Draco, I am...so proud of you. You’ve changed so much and…” She didn’t even know what else to say. All she knew was that she was swelling with pride. He’d truly become a different person, and she couldn’t have loved him more in that moment. To know that he would be with her through all of this, meant more than she could ever explain. 

 

* * *

 

 

When they returned to the house, they found Ted, Remus, Tonks, and Andromeda in the kitchen. The two of them greeted the other three, and Hermione and Draco continued into the living room, where they found Narcissa sitting by herself. She sat in an armchair next to a bookcase filled with odd knick-knacks and pictures. Her body was stiff, and her lips were pulled into what was clearly an uncomfortable smile. Hermione and Draco sat on the loveseat closest to her. “Mum?” Draco said. 

 

Narcissa looked around at the pair of them, and her forced smile faded. “I was admiring these pictures,” she said, gesturing to the bookshelf. Hermione didn’t miss the conversational tone of her voice, nor the slight look of nervousness on her pale features. It had been several days since her arrival to Andromeda’s, and she had met a fair few of the Order Members since they had collected her from their hide-out, but this was the first time she had been around Order Members at the time of a meeting, let alone having dinner with them too. “Why didn’t we have more family photographs hanging around the Manor?” she asked rhetorically, her gaze now back on the moving photographs. 

 

Hermione, who had never set foot inside Malfoy Manor, tried to imagine photographs like these framed on the walls of Draco’s home or set on tables and bookshelves, but the image just seemed wrong, and judging by the look on Draco’s face, he knew exactly why they didn’t have many family photographs -- he just didn’t want to say it. The two watched as Narcissa’s eyes fell on one that showed Andromeda and Ted standing behind Tonks and a birthday cake illuminated with candles. The young Tonks grinned goofily up at her parents before blowing out the candles.

 

Hermione saw the corners of Narcissa’s lips quirk upwards into a smile, but a split second later, her features fell. She turned to look solely at Draco, her brows furrowed. “Draco,” she said sadly. “Your seventeenth birthday...your coming of age...I--”

 

“Mum,” Draco cut in, his voice firm. “It’s okay. I didn’t-- We...” he stopped and looked at Hermione, “didn’t even celebrate my birthday the day of. With everything that happened the night before… Anyway, Andromeda and Hermione surprised me a few weeks ago with a cake. The same cake you always used to make me, actually.” 

 

The elder Malfoy seemed to be shocked into silence, as she gazed at the two of them, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, one corner of her mouth shifted upwards. “That’s--that’s wonderful, dear--”

 

“It was Andromeda who did most of the work, really.” Hermione said abruptly. “I just...remembered that Draco had told me about it. But Andromeda remembered the recipe and everything…” she trailed off, forgetting her intention of speaking at all. 

 

But this only made Narcissa smile wider, more genuinely it seemed. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Yes, she would remember it.” 

 

“Dinner!” Andromeda called, poking her head out of the kitchen. 

 

Hermione and Draco stood up immediately, and she was ready to head for the kitchen when Draco paused. She stopped too, and realized that Narcissa hadn’t stood up. “Aren’t you coming, mum?” he said, reaching a hand out for her to take. 

 

“Hmm?” Narcissa said, acting as though she had not heard him. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” 

 

The two of them waited for the Malfoy matriarch to get up and walked slowly so she could enter the kitchen with them. Tonks and Remus were already seated at the table, which had been extended to fit the acquired number of guests, and Hermione didn’t miss the way Tonks tensed at Narcissa’s arrival. Ted beckoned them to sit, drawing out a chair for Narcissa, for which she thanked him for. Hermione’s lips quirked up into a small smile as she sat down next to Draco. She wondered for a moment how he felt sitting between his mother and his girlfriend before she pushed the thought away and turned her attention to Tonks, who was sitting directly across from her. The witch was tense beside her fiance and kept stealing side-glances at her Aunt. “So Tonks, how’s the wedding planning? It’s coming up soon, right?” she asked, trying to distract Tonks from Narcissa. 

 

“Huh? Oh yeah, well with the mission on the twenty-seventh we’ll have to have it before then. We were thinking the twenty-third, but it’s up to mum at this point,” Tonks explained, not fully meeting Hermione’s eyes. 

 

“Tonks,” Remus whispered, leaning in close to her. “Careful not to mention the you-know-what.” 

 

Narcissa looked interested, but an uncomfortable silence had fallen over the table. “Mission?” Narcissa asked, peering around at her sister, who was already giving her an apologetic smile.

 

“Sorry Cissy,” she said. “It’s Order business and it’s well, only between active Order Members. We’re not supposed to discuss it outside meetings.” She gave her daughter a pointed stare. Tonks looked down at her plate, like a child who had been scolded. 

 

“I understand,” Narcissa said, now looking at Draco, who was avoiding her stare. “Well Draco, I believe congratulations are in order then? For both you and Hermione?” 

 

The two exchanged apprehensive looks before Draco looked back to his mother. “I don’t think that’s necessary mum, really. It’s--”

 

“Nonsense,” Narcissa said, standing from the table. “If I know my sister, she has a few bottles of wine stashed around here.” 

 

Remus and Tonks looked as though they wanted to be anywhere but here at the moment, while Andromeda and Ted exchanged in a private and what seemed to be a wordless conversation. She felt Draco reach for the hand that rested on her thigh, giving her fingers a squeeze. “I wasn’t planning on telling her yet,” he murmured out of the corner of his mouth. “Wait until she hears I’m going on the mission.” 

 

Andromeda rose from her chair and went to assist her sister, who was now fumbling in the pantry. Hermione looked at Draco with a grim expression. “Better we face it sooner than later,” she said with a heavy sigh. 

 

* * *

 

It was a few days before they were able to get Narcissa alone for a bit and tell her that Draco was not only an Order member, but was risking his life on a mission in less than a week’s time. Between Order members popping in and out to go over the plan for the twenty-seventh, and practicing their list of defensive spells, they’d had little time alone with her. Tonight however, they’d hit a stroke of luck. Hermione and Draco were the only ones left in the living room aside from Narcissa, with Andromeda and Ted turning in for the night just minutes ago. Narcissa was preoccupied with a book while Hermione and Draco had secretly continued creating their list of defensive spells she felt Draco should know. After agreeing to help transport Harry on the twenty-seventh of this month, she suggested they start going over and practicing defensive spells. They were crunched on time, and they’d already started working on a few over the past few days, but there was so much she wanted to cover. There was still one thing Draco had to do though, that had nothing to do with defensive magic. She nudged his side and switched her gaze to his mother, who sat completely oblivious to the pair of them. Draco shot her a look as if to say, ‘ _ Do I have to? _ ’. She gave him a pointed stare and nodded her head towards Narcissa again. He sighed and set down the parchment he’d had in his lap. “Mum?” he said after clearing his throat. 

 

Narcissa looked up from her book, and when she caught sight of the looks on both their faces, she frowned. “Is this when I find out the reason behind your meaningful glances for the past hour?” she said, sitting up straighter and snapping the book shut. 

 

“Listen,” he said seriously, ignoring her question. Hermione was a bit taken aback by his tone. “Some of the Order Members are going on a mission next week, and I’m going with them--”

 

“I beg your pardon?” Narcissa whispered, looking aghast. Hermione looked back and forth between mother and son; Narcissa’s features riddled with shock and Draco’s hard as stone. 

 

“I’m going on a mission with the Order,” he repeated, not breaking eye contact.

 

The elder witch turned to look at Hermione, her eyes bright and piercing and said, “Hermione, would you kindly give me a moment alone with my son?” 

 

Hermione nodded fervently and stood up. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, of course.” She turned to Draco and gave one last supportive squeeze of his hand. “I’ll, erm… I’ll be upstairs.” As quickly as she could, she left mother and son behind, with one last fleeting look as she disappeared from the archway. She could hear the murmuring of their voices as she slowed her walk, but she was barely twenty feet away when she could no longer hear them. Resigned to waiting for Draco to meet her upstairs, Hermione climbed the stairs slowly, hoping that she’d be able to hear  _ something.  _

 

* * *

 

 

It was well over an hour when Draco returned to their bedroom. She looked up at him expectantly from their bed, setting aside the list of defensive spells she’d been writing down. He looked tired; shoulders slumped, hair tousled and eyes slightly bloodshot. She scooted forward toward the edge of the bed as Draco flopped down backwards onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. “That was  _ horrible _ ,” he groaned, dragging his hands through his hair and down his face. “I don’t know why she’s putting up such a fuss about it.” 

 

Hermione bit her lip; after her conversation with Andromeda the other day, she’d thought a lot about what Narcissa must have gone through, and not just within the past few weeks. Aside from her conversation with Andromeda, she hadn’t been oblivious to the awkward silences, the hours that Narcissa would spend in her room. “Oh Draco, isn’t it obvious?” she said shrilly. He turned to look at her, eyebrow raised. She rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. Draco propped himself up on his elbows and gave her his full attention. “Well first there’s the fact that her entire world has flipped upside down. Her son switched sides, she had to go into hiding, your dad chose not to come with her, and now she’s living at her sister’s house who she hasn’t spoken to in Merlin knows how long! Add that on to the fact that her sister is married to a Muggle-born and now has to see the man daily. Not to mention her son is dating one...” her voice grew quiet at these words. “She’s already trying to adapt. She’s lived her life a certain way and...believed certain things, but she’s trying to accept it all and now…” She looked at him with a sad smile and brushed his fringe out of his eyes. “She has to accept that she might lose you on this mission. She loves you a lot, you know. And I think...after everything that has been thrown her at these past few weeks, you were the only stable thing about her new life. At least she had you.” 

 

Draco attempted a scoff, but he didn’t sound entirely convincing. He cleared his throat, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. “She’s being ridiculous,” he muttered. “I’ll come back, I’ll--”

 

“There’s no guarantee,” she said flatly, surprised at the ruthlessness of her own tone. “Any of us could--”

 

“Don’t say it,” he snapped, turning his attention to her. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her, his lips twisted into a frown. “I know it’s the truth,” he said when she opened her mouth. “But just...don’t say it, okay?” 

 

She nodded. He sat up and looked at her curiously, like she was a riddle he was trying to solve. “You realize you’re risking your life for Potter, right?” he said, his lips barely moving. 

 

Hermione chuckled and rested her head against his shoulder. “Yes,” she said. “And I don’t think I have to tell you that I’d do for it him a hundred times if I had to.” Draco pulled away from her, his eyes wide and his eyebrows nearly at his hairline. “Oh relax,” she said with a sigh. “I’d to the same for you...and Ron, and my parents…”

 

“I get your point,” he said, a smile breaking out on his lips. He looked at her and lifted a hand to cup her cheek. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. His fingers swept up to her hair, pushing it behind her ear. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” 

 

She felt a heat rush to her cheeks. “Funnily enough, I don’t think you ever have,” she teased.

 

He licked his lips, and ran his thumb down her jawline. “Well if we could die any day apparently, then perhaps I should tell you more often.” 

 

“Perhaps you should,” she said before leaning forward and pressed her lips against his. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione had to admit, the backyard looked absolutely beautiful. Despite the fact that there were no guests other than the occupants of the house attending the wedding, the set-up was stunning. A white arch weaved with roses stood just behind Kingsley, Remus and Tonks. Kingsley stood between the couple, with Hermione, Andromeda and Narcissa standing behind Tonks all sporting white, summer dresses. Ted and Draco stood behind Remus, both in black dress robes. She saw Draco smile at her, peering around the other two men. She gave him a smile wave then nodded her head towards Kingsley, who was ready to begin. 

 

Kingsley started his speech; Hermione watched a smile spread on Remus’s face as he Tonks held hands. Tonks was practically bouncing on her toes. Hermione let out an airy laugh. Her gaze fell on Draco again as she heard Kingsley ask Tonks if she would take Remus as her husband. He too was watching the exchange before them, one corner of his lips quirked upwards, hands clasped in front of him as he stood tall. Andromeda sniffled in front of her, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. 

 

Their vows were short and quick, and before Hermione knew it the ceremony was over. She watched, amazed, as Kingsley raised his wand above the new married couple and silver stars fell around them before winding their way around their joined hands.. The five of them cheered as Tonks and Remus kissed before pulling away from one another. Andromeda and Ted swarmed upon their daughter, offering their congratulations and kisses. The other three hung back as Kingsley stepped out of the way. Hermione turned around to see Narcissa wearing a watery smile. Draco appeared at her side a moment later and slipped his hand into hers. “Nice ceremony, wasn’t it?” Hermione said, turning to smile at Narcissa. 

 

Narcissa returned her smile as she dabbed her eyes and glanced over at the other four, still chatting excitedly. “It was lovely, yes.” She noticed the look of apprehension that flickered over Narcissa’s features every time she looked at Remus, but it never lasted long. Narcissa was quick to put her walls back up, she’d noticed. Before Draco or Hermione could say anything more about the wedding, they heard the sound of laughter and several voices growing louder. “Cissy!” she heard Andromeda call. The voices grew closer, and Andromeda, Ted, Remus and Tonks joined their circle. “I was telling Ted you had taken care of the decorations for us, being you have such an eye for that sort of thing.” 

 

“Everything was just beautiful,” Ted said earnestly, lifting his head to look directly at Narcissa. “Truly, you did a spectacular job.” 

 

“You really did,” Tonks chimed in, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. “I couldn’t have asked for anything better, really. Simple, not too much…” 

 

“It was my pleasure, really,” Narcissa said, waving a hand dismissively. “No trouble at all.” 

 

Silence fell between them all, as they all stared around at one another for a moment. It was Andromeda who spoke first. “Right, well, we should start preparing for the celebration! Ted, would you, Remus and Draco set up the table? Hermione, Narcissa, join me in the kitchen please?” 

 

“What do you want me to do, mum?” Tonks asked eagerly. 

 

Andromeda turned to her and patted her cheek with her hand. “Nothing dear, you’re the bride after all.” Tonks looked slightly disappointed, and Hermione had a feeling Andromeda was sparing everyone else from having to cope with her daughter’s clumsiness. Everyone separated, Tonks heading up to her mum’s room to change and lay down for a bit. Hermione followed the older two witches into the kitchen, a ball of nervousness growing in her stomach. She hadn’t been alone with the two sisters before now. 

 

“Hermione dear, fetch me a large mixing bowl would you?” Andromeda asked as she rummaged through the cupboard. Narcissa was clearing the counters, making room for the three of them to work. It wasn’t long before the three of them set to work, each concentrated on their task at hand. Hermione was in her own little world, chopping vegetables and preparing the salad. She hadn’t heard Andromeda curse under her breath and bolt out of the kitchen, and she hadn’t heard Narcissa calling her name. Her mind, now that the excitement for the day was over, was back on the fact that they were leaving in four days time to transport Harry. It wasn’t until Narcissa tapped her on the shoulder that she was pulled from her reverie, and whirled around. She let out a small yelp and the knife fell to the counter with a small clatter. 

 

“Sorry,” Narcissa said apologetically. “But I need a word with you, before my sister returns.” She peered around Hermione, no doubt to check if she could see Andromeda. 

 

“Erm, alright,” Hermione said nervously, leaning against the counter. 

 

“Draco has made it quite clear that he is not to be dissuaded from this mission the two of you speak of,” she said coolly, her features blank. “I have no way of stopping him. He is of age, he can make his own decisions. But do make sure he comes back here in one piece, preferably alive, will you?” 

 

Hermione stammered wordlessly as she stared at the elder witch; her skin as pale as Draco’s, the sharp lines of her face illuminated by the sunlight flooding the kitchen. She was breathtakingly beautiful, of course, but she was quite intimidating. Especially with the ferocity in her tone, and the fixed stare she refused to break. “I’ll do what I can,” she said, feeling her heart sink in her chest. “Everything I can,” she amended. 

 

She had no way of ensuring Draco’s safety after they would leave Privet Drive, but she wasn’t about to tell his mother this. What good would it do? Besides, she and Draco had been practicing hard ever since they found out about the mission. He’d picked up majority of the jinxes and hexes quickly, and she’d been impressed by the strength of his shield charm. He would be fine. They would both be fine. And they could return after it was all over; mother and son could be reunited once more.  _ Everything is going to be fine,  _ she told herself, giving Narcissa a convincing smile and returning to the half-chopped vegetables in front of her. 

  
  



	39. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24. Sorry for the delay, but hopefully you guys enjoy! We'll be uploading once a week, but not on a specific day. We are now entering Deathly Hallows events and this will be continuing throughout the entire book. Also, you might have some questions after reading this chapter, but just hold onto them because they will be discussed in the next chapter. Happy reading :)

“Don’t let me fall.”

 

Hermione stared sternly up at Draco who was standing with an air of calm smugness to him that really, she was thankful for. Having him act normal in this situation was keeping her from panicking about the upcoming retrieval of Harry.

 

“I’m not going to let you fall,” he drawled. “For one, I’m an  _ excellent _ flyer,” he smirked. “And secondly, I know that if I did let you fall, you’d come back and haunt me and yell at me for the rest of my days.”

 

She rolled her eyes and let out a small laugh. She eyed the broom in Draco’s hand and then sighed. She knew she had to pluck up the courage. Her fear over flying should be minuscule compared to the fear she was feeling over what would be happening over the next few hours. In the days leading up to taking Harry from Privet Drive, Hermione and Draco had been involved in countless meetings involving the Order of the Phoenix members who would be involved in the mission, and even been apart of a few trial runs to figure out which route they would take to their Portkeys and where the Burrow was in relation to them. It was nerve-wracking for the both of them to be seated at the table with everyone, being trusted with the information, and knowing what importance was now on their shoulders.

 

Mad-Eye shouted at them all to get ready, and Hermione’s heart started to race even quicker. Draco got on the broom first and then offered his hand to Hermione. As much as her body was telling her that she didn’t want to get on, she plucked up what little courage she had left and took Draco’s hand and got on the broom behind him. “Remember what I said,” she whimpered and pushed her head against his back and closed her eyes. Moody counted to three and then Draco pushed his feet off the ground and the broom flew into the air. Hermione heard herself let out a high pitched noise, and felt Draco’s body move as he laughed.

 

She didn’t dare open her eyes to look at everyone else flying beside them on Thestrals and brooms alike, even Hagrid on his motorbike, and kept her arms wrapped tightly around Draco’s waist, not daring to loosen her grip at all. It felt like forever that they were in the air until Draco turned his head slightly and told her they were coming into land. It was over all too quick; one minute they were flying through the air, and the next Draco had dipped the broom down slowly and they were coming down to the street.

 

Hermione cracked one eye open when the broom slowed to a stop and lowered enough that her toes touched the road. She felt the strange sensation of the Disillusionment Charm lifting off of her, and then all of a sudden, Draco was prising her hands from around his waist, and he helped her get off the broomstick. “Okay?” He asked her. He kept her steady while she blew a strand of her hair from her face, assured him she was fine, and then looked around.

 

So this was it… Privet Drive. The place she’d heard so much about from Harry, the place that didn’t bring him a shred of happy memories. It seemed like every other normal neighbourhood, and she felt a sting of sadness when she compared it to her own street where her family home now lay empty for the first time in over eighteen years.

 

“Hermione?” Draco asked softly, making her pay attention. She realised that everyone had started to make their way off the road and up the driveway of the Dursley’s house. She shook her head slightly and walked with Draco to the house, and her heart started to beat faster when she saw the front door open and the warm light from inside shine out onto the front step. And then Harry appeared with it. Grinning, hair a mess as usual...but alive, and well, and  _ there _ .

 

She broke off from Draco and sped forwards, running past the older Order members, and managed to dart around Moody just in time to launch herself at Harry, making a rather embarrassing noise of joy as she did so. Harry let out a rush of breath from being blindsided and he stumbled back but hugged her back tightly. She was smiling so widely her cheeks ached when she pulled back. “I’ve missed you,” she told him.

 

“I’ve missed you too,” he grinned and then looked over her shoulder and then Ron appeared beside her and walked past to clap Harry on the back and nudge his shoulder.

 

“Hey, mate,” Ron greeted and Harry grinned wider and pushed Ron’s arm back. Hermione laughed at them both, and reached over to grab Ron’s sleeve and pulled him into the house and out of the way as the rest of the Order members filed through the front door, greeting Harry one by one as they did so. 

 

“All righ’, Harry?” Hagrid asked as he came through the door, ducking as he did so.

 

Harry nodded with a grin, “There’s so many of you?” He asked.

 

“There’s been a change of plans,” Moody said, leading the way through to the kitchen.

 

Hermione, still smiling and overjoyed from seeing Harry happy and safe, had been about to join them all, but stopped when out of the corner of her eye she saw Draco close the front door and move forward. She turned to him, feeling a surge of guilt, and gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry,” she apologised.

 

He gave her a half-hearted smile and shrugged one shoulder. “It’s fine,” he brushed off. “We need to go in,” he said and walked passed her, following everyone else.

 

Entering the kitchen, they arrived just in time to see Tonks lift her left hand to show Harry. “You got married?!” He asked in surprise.

 

Tonks nodded with a grin on her face. “Sorry you couldn’t have been there. It was a small ceremony,” she said, and caught Hermione’s eye and gave her a playful wink.

 

“We’ll have enough time for a get together later,” Moody snapped, silencing everyone. He dropped the two sacks he was holding, at his feet and then started to launch into his explanation of how things were going to go that night and how the Trace was still in place on Harry. Hermione had heard the plan countless of times during the meetings that she and Draco had sat in on, but hearing it be explained to Harry, in possibly even  _ more _ detail than normal, was a good reminder of what was to come. The closer the time ticked to when they would have to leave, the more her nerves grew, and she sidled closer to Draco and took his hand.

 

He was standing stiff, an unreadable expression on his face, but he held her hand back tightly and rubbed his thumb against the side of her hand.

 

“We’ll be leaving on the only transport that can’t be traced,” Moody concluded his explanation. “Thestrals, brooms and Hagrid’s motorbike -- you’ll be on that one with Hagrid and travelling to Tonks’s parents house.

 

“Right…” Harry said, his brows furrowed. “But won’t it be obvious which safe house I’m going to when they clearly see me and Hagrid travel that way?”

 

“I haven’t mentioned the key point of this plan. There won’t be one Harry Potter moving through the skies tonight; there will be seven.”

 

Hermione watched as Moody pulled out the flask of Polyjuice Potion from his coat, and she waited all of two seconds before Harry acted the exact way she had known he would. “No!” He snapped. “You think I’m going to have everyone risk their lives like this?”

 

“We’ve done it before, mate,” Ron said.

 

“Yeah, well this is different,” Harry argued. “Pretending to be me?!”

 

“None of us really fancy it,” Fred chimed in. “We don’t want to be stuck with your ugly mug for the rest of our lives if something goes wrong.”

 

“Agreed,” Draco muttered under his breath, and Hermione elbowed him in the side whereas the twins looked over at him with grins on their faces.

 

“You can’t do it unless I give you some hair,” Harry argued.

 

“No offence Harry, but there are thirteen of us, and you aren’t allowed to use magic…” Ron added, and Harry glared.

 

“If it comes to force, then so be it,” Moody snarled. “Everyone here is over-age and they all know the risk they’re taking. No more arguments, Potter,” he said and held out the flask with the lid popped open.

 

Hermione was positive that Harry would stay stubborn and not move, but after a few tense seconds, he reached up and pulled a few hairs from his head and walked forward to place them into the potion. The potion bubbled and turned from its original murky, muddy colour, to a clear bright gold which made Hermione’s eyebrows raise in surprise; it looked extraordinarily better than the Polyjuice they’d made in their second year which contained Crabbe and Goyle’s hairs.

 

“All the fake Potter’s, over here,” Moody said gruffly, pointing to one side of the kitchen. Hermione moved forward at once, her hand still in Draco’s as he followed and lined up with her. Fred, George, Ron and Fleur lined up next, and Moody stood before them and started to hand out small cups. Hermione didn’t miss the slight shake in Draco’s hand as he reached out to take a cup from Moody, and she saw how white his knuckles were as he gripped it.

 

The potion was then distributed by Moody, and after they all looked down at their cups for a moment too long, he waved his hand and snapped at them to make them hurry up. With a quick breath, Hermione lifted the cup up and swallowed back the sludgy liquid in one and grimaced -- just because the colour was nicer than the concoction they’d made five years back, didn’t mean the taste was any better. It took effect immediately, and Hermione’s insides twisted and turned horribly, and the awful feeling of stretching upwards overcame her. She gained height, but looking down the line of other people, she saw Draco and Fleur both lose an inch or two off their height, while Ron, Fred and George seemed to lose much more.

 

Hermione felt something brush against her shoulder and realised that her hair was receding back into her skull and she grimaced and closed her eyes, but it was hard not to think about the awful uncomfortable feeling she was experiencing. Moody started to talk and when she looked at him, she found herself squinting; her vision had gone awfully blurry to the point she couldn’t make out clear lines that were several feet away from her… Harry’s vision really was quite terrible. Moody instructed everyone to change into the clothes and glasses that he’d packed into the sacks that sat on the floor, and at once, the six of them stepped forward to start getting changed.

 

She felt rather embarrassed stripping out of her own clothes and baring Harry’s body, and catching sight of it from the other five getting changed too, so she hurried as quick as she could until she stood in the same clothes as everyone else, the glasses sitting on her nose, and she could see clearly once more.

 

“I told you I’d still be better looking,” one of the twin-Harrys looked at the other with a smirk. She knew this was going to be awfully confusing…

 

She looked properly at Draco next to her and found it so strange to think that was her  _ boyfriend _ who stood there looking identical to Harry; sounding like him too. The expression on his face though was clearly that of Draco’s, and it made her smile, especially when he grimaced slightly when he caught her eye. “Don’t you look handsome?” She teased, her voice sounding exactly like Harry’s, wanting to find humour in this situation before they were thrust into danger.

 

Draco’s nose wrinkled. “Don’t ever say that to me when you look and sound like that,” he grimaced and she laughed, as did several other people in the room.

 

“Enough chatting,” Moody said firmly and everyone quietened down. “The pairs will go as follows. Harry with Hagrid on the motorbike; Arthur and Fred on broom; George and Remus on broom; Bill, Fleur, you’ll be on Thestral; Granger with Kingsley, Thestral again; Ron and Tonks on broom, leaving Malfoy with me,” he finished, staring at Draco as Harry. Everyone moved into their positions, and Hermione wished she had maybe looked at Draco a bit longer when he had been himself before changing.

 

“I’ll see you back at The Burrow, okay?” She whispered to Draco, catching his arm before he moved off to Moody as everyone else started to vacate the kitchen.

 

“Of course you will,” he assured her and then paused; she knew how uncomfortable he would be feeling saying this to her when she looked and sounded as she did, just as how she felt the exact same. “Be safe, promise?”

 

“I promise,” she assured him. “And you too,” she said, and her voice shook as the nerves came back in full force. She walked out of Privet Drive with everyone else, and her stomach churned and twisted as what was truly happening started to sink in and sink in quickly. She approached Kingsley and the Thestral he was standing besides, and when she came to a stop, could feel the shakiness in her legs.

 

Her nerves were peaking, and she had no time to think about the fear that flying on the back of the Thestral would instill, as Kingsley put his hands on her waist and lifted her up onto the great skeletal horse’s back. She briefly thought of the time she had spent in the Forbidden Forest with Draco, the first time they had both properly been around the Thestrals, and one of the few times he had truly opened up to her while they’d still been at Hogwarts.

 

It was strange to look down and see Harry’s hands gripping at the leathery neck of the Thestral, and not her own hands, and she withdrew her wand from her pocket and held onto it tighter than she’d ever held anything before. Besides her, the motorbike that Hagrid sat upon with the real Harry in the sidecar, roared to life, and everyone else was getting properly situated on brooms or Thestrals. She looked over to Moody and Draco and she wished she could see him properly just once more as  _ Draco _ . She truly was terrified over everything; flying, the unknown of whether they would be attacked or not, what would happen if any of them were hurt...what she’d have to tell Narcissa if something happened to Draco…

 

There wasn’t any time to linger on those thoughts at all, as Moody counted out loudly to three, and Kingsley put one arm around her waist securing her tightly, and then she felt his calves push into the side of the Thestral, and up everyone went. Brooms, motorbike, and Thestrals, all soared into the air, quickly leaving Privet Drive behind as an image getting smaller and smaller the higher they flew. Hermione resisted the urge to close her eyes tightly as she’d done on her way to Privet Drive, where her head had been pushed against Draco’s back the entire time, not peeking at all. But seconds after they had flown into the air, she wished that she hadn’t taken the calm fly over to Privet Drive for granted.

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and pretend that none of this was happening. He wanted to be able to wake up and find that this was all some sick dream and that he wasn’t really apart of any of it.

 

The attack had come completely out of nowhere. One moment the sky was clear and he was watching on worriedly as Hermione and Kingsley flew away to the west, while he and Mad-Eye were taken a more northerly-route. Then before he knew it, as they came up through the clouds, the sky lit up with spells and curses being fired back and forth. Order members and Death Eater’s all fought, but with the Order members dodging and weaving between the jets of light. Draco would later realise that the older members, those that had been trained professionally or had done this before, had their wits about them enough to remember that staying to fight wouldn’t do anything in convincing the Death Eaters that they had the real Harry. By continuing on their path, and focusing more on that than on fighting, they were completing their mission and confusing the Death Eaters in the process.

 

Draco had his wand out but was, quite honestly, too terrified to do anything with it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to curse the Death Eaters back, because he did -- truly --, but every time he went to raise his wand, he was brought back to the night of the Tower, holding his wand up to Dumbledore, and his willpower faltered.

 

“Don’t be weak with your spells, Malfoy!” Moody yelled at him. Throughout the flight, it seemed like his broom had been charmed to stay on the same course as the old Auror’s, and his stomach was feeling terrible from the broom being lurched around, up and down, back and forth, side to side. Draco didn’t know if they were dodging spells or trying to throw the Death Eater’s off, but whatever the plan was, it wasn’t working. He let out a hiss of pain when something was shot at his shoulder blade and sent a stinging pain down the right side of his back, and his foot slipped from the hold of his broom when another hex got him in the leg, sending the same stinging, numbing sensation from hip to ankle.

 

Draco gripped his wand tightly, so tight that he felt like the wood could snap in his grip, and when he spotted a figure approaching them out of the corner of his eye, he hastily shot a Stupefy at them, knowing that he had to do something, but it was rebounded easily, and he had to bend low on his broom to dodge it. He’d always had good reflexes, and this was the night that it was really paying off. A spell shot past Draco, but from his left side where Moody was, and with a yell, the Death Eater that had been aiming at them, fell from their own broom, a flurry of robes, but with no other noise. Draco felt like he’d be sick.

 

Moody was yelling something, but Draco couldn’t distinguish what words they were. There was a buzzing in his ears, and his concentration was solely on trying to find more darkened figures in the night sky that may be coming towards them.

 

Perhaps he looked in the opposite direction for too long. Perhaps, Moody had been focused on something else too. Whatever the reason, Draco heard those  _ two words _ he’d never wanted to hear ever again, and a flash of green illuminated beside him. His broom jolted, as if it were being let free of the set track it had been put on, and Draco turned just in time to see Alastor Moody fall from his broom and not stop. He kept falling...faster and faster, further away from Draco until he could no longer see him. The Death Eater who had cast the spell must have been just as surprised that they had managed to kill one of the most prolific Aurors of their time, and that slight moment gave Draco the advantage he needed to lift his wand in time.

 

He used one of the defensive curses that Hermione had taught him, and as the light shot from his wand and hit the Death Eater, a searing pain ran from his hand and up his arm. He screamed loudly at the sudden onslaught of pain, and it was a small mercy that the spell had actually hit the Death Eater and sent them falling off their broom, sending a beam of green light upwards rather than towards him. Draco barely had time to think that he had almost been at the receiving end of an Avada Kedavra, as the impact of his injury made him lay almost flat on his broom. Had the Death Eater’s curse actually hit him? He didn’t recall feeling any impact of a spell on his arm, and the pain had started right from where his own wand lay in his hand.

 

When he blinked, it suddenly felt like his eyelids weighed a tonne, as did the rest of his body. His whole head started to throb in a feeling he’d only ever experienced once before in the girl’s bathroom earlier that year after he’d been cursed by Potter. He could hardly keep a  grip on his broom, nor could he properly see for several seconds.

 

And then he was falling… The pain was growing, feeling like there was a fire across his skin, digging under the surface and spreading up his arm, slowly making its way to the rest of his body. His fingers were slackening from the broom handle with every passing second. ‘ _ Hold on _ ,’ he told himself, ‘ _ You can get to the Burrow. You’ve done the test runs _ .’ His wand started to slip from the fingers on his left hand and he found that he couldn’t grip it at all, and he had to use his other hand with a groan of pain to take it before it fell down to the ground below him.

 

He knew he shouldn’t be flying this low, but every time he tried to direct his broom properly, the pain became too much. His whole body felt like it was on fire now, and he wanted to know what kind of curse had been used on him to cause this. He couldn’t feel the warm stickiness of blood all over his body like he had when he’d been the victim of Potter’s Sectumsempra curse. The thought of blood made him look down at his arm where in fact, it  _ did _ feel rather different.

 

What he saw made his stomach roll and bile rise in his throat. That couldn’t be his arm… No… How was he still flying? He’d never make it to the Burrow. He’d never make it back to where he knew Hermione would be waiting for him… 

 

* * *

 

Hermione’s stomach lurched as she felt like she was being pulled backwards by the force of the Portkey, but she kept her fingers tightly clutched around the old wire coat hanger and tried to keep calm. Her feet hit the ground seconds later, sending a pain through her ankles, but she quickly forgot about it when she saw that they’d safely arrived at The Burrow. She dropped the coat hanger just as Kingsley did too, and it lay forgotten in the grass.

 

The sound of the Burrow’s front door opening directed Hermione’s eyes to the house, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw Harry step out into the front yard. She could have cried from relief, and her heart was pounding as she ran the distance between them and launched herself forward, throwing herself into a hug. 

 

“You’re here,” she breathed, hugging him tightly. “You’re safe?” She asked and pulled back to look him up and down. He didn’t seem visibly injured but when she looked him in the eye, she saw something was off. “Harry what happened?” She asked.

 

He clenched his jaw tightly and averted his eyes to look down at the ground for a few seconds, but she didn’t miss the glossy sheen in his eyes. “Hedwig,” he said tightly, and Hermione’s heart broke for him -- she knew how much the owl had meant to Harry; she’d really been his only connection to the Wizarding World and his only friend during the days he’d been stuck at the Dursleys during the summer holidays.

 

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered and hugged him again, but he was tense and didn’t respond as he normally would.

 

“George got hit too,” he added and Hermione pulled back quickly to stare at him. “Nothing fatal,” he said quickly. “His ear… He got cursed, he lost his ear.”

 

“Lost an--?” She repeated in disbelief and looked over his shoulder at the house where the warm inviting light from inside seemed to be calling her name. “H-He was the only one injured?” She asked, almost not wanting to know if there had been any more. Harry nodded once and it allowed her to breathe a slight bit easier. But there was still the other nagging thought that was pressing on the forefront of her mind… Surely if Draco was here, he would have been outside to see her when she arrived.

 

Harry seemed to have sensed from Hermione’s pause just what she was thinking about. “Only Hagrid, Remus, George and I are back,” he said, his voice sounding completely empty. Her heart clenched painfully and she looked to the area surrounding the Burrow almost like doing so would mean Draco would arrive with Moody right that second and everything would be fine. She also thought of Ron and Tonks who both hadn’t arrived back, and she worried that maybe everyone who wasn’t back yet was where Draco was… “They’re going to be fine,” Harry said, though the lack of strength in his voice betrayed his statement. “They’re all smart… They can get out of anything…”

 

Hermione looked over his shoulder again when she heard the crack of the door hitting the wall, and out ran Lupin who spared Hermione a glance but was more focused on Kingsley who had now raised his wand. “What are the last words Albus Dumbledore said to the both of us?” He demanded to know, pointing his wand right at Remus’s chest.

 

“‘ _ Harry is the best hope we have. Trust him _ ’,” Remus answered easily, and they all watched as Kingsley turned his wand on Harry who took a cautious step back. “It’s him!” Remus said quickly, raising his hand, “I’ve checked.”

 

“Someone has betrayed us,” Kingsley said darkly, his voice commandeering through the quiet night. “They knew, they knew it was happening tonight!”

 

“But they didn’t know there was going to be seven Harrys,” Lupin added.

 

“Small mercy that is,” Kingsley growled, and then asked who was already back. Lupin started to explain who had come back and what had happened on their flight to the Burrow.

 

“I want to know who leaked the information,” Hermione whispered to Harry, holding his forearm tightly. Without him there to keep her upright and sane, she didn’t know what she’d do. But instead of comforting her, he stiffened and looked at the ground. Kingsley had heard her as well and looked at her for a few seconds before walking up to the house. She wasn’t stupid, and she knew what that look had conveyed, and she knew why Harry had shut up. “It wasn’t him,” she said, glaring at Harry and then Lupin who was watching too. “Don’t even  _ think _ that it was him, he wouldn’t do... _ that _ to us!”

 

“We just need to think about this logically, Hermione,” Remus intervened and she grit her teeth.

 

“Then don’t point fingers at the boy who was almost killed by who we were trying to get away from tonight!” She snapped, and felt Harry’s hand on her shoulder. She shrugged him off and walked away from both men, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand as she did. She didn’t know what emotion she was feeling anymore? Was it fear? Anger? Sadness? A mix of everything plus a hundred different things? Most likely…

 

She walked down to the fence and leaned against it and sniffed. She couldn’t believe that they were genuinely thinking that Draco had something to do with helping the Death Eaters coordinate their ambush. That was ridiculous! She wasn’t sure how long she stayed by the fence line, but she stood up straight when all of a sudden Arthur and George appeared, coming through the wards. “Mr Weasley! Fred!” She called and ran the short distance to get to them. “You need to go inside,” she said, and both of their faces instantly paled. “George has been injured! He’s going to be fine, but you need to go see him.”

 

Fred ran first, sprinting to the front door, leaving Arthur still standing in shock. “Thank you, Hermione,” he told her, giving her shoulder a squeeze before he ran to the Burrow too, to see his son.

 

Hermione watched as Mr Weasley disappeared into the house, leaving the front door wide open. She was starting to get cold despite the warm jumper she was wearing that was much too big for her seeing as though she was still wearing the clothes that was meant to disguise her as Harry. She sighed and turned to look away from the house and out onto the open area beyond the fence.  _ Where are you, Draco? _ She thought and climbed up onto the fence to sit with her legs swung over it, looking out into the darkness.

 

She heard footsteps behind her long before the person actually got to her side. She turned her head and saw Harry walking towards her, and when he saw that she knew he was there, he walked normally, his feet hardly making a noise at all. He must have wanted her to know he’d been coming, not wanting to scare her if he had been quiet. “Are you okay?” He asked when he got to her side, and he rest his forearms on the top of the fence right next to where she was sitting.

 

“Honestly?” Hermione asked, and looked down at her legs. “Not at all. I’m so scared, Harry. This was meant to be an easy operation, nothing was meant to go wrong.  _ Everything  _ was planned out perfectly, but it couldn’t have gone more disastrously. I...I think Kingsley  _ killed _ someone, Harry,” her voice wavered as she remembered seeing the flash of green light in front of them, but not knowing where it had came from. There was too many flashes of light, green and red alike, and one of those had hit a Death Eater, sending them tumbling from their broom, falling through the air.

 

“Hermione, they were trying to kill us,” Harry said softly and placed his hand on her knee.

 

“Believe it or not, Harry, seeing a human being die before my eyes, even if they were a Death Eater, isn’t enough to make me rejoice,” she said bitterly, looking away from him up to the sky. It was cloudy, and she couldn’t see the stars… She hated not being able to see the stars, now, not when seeing them reminded her of lying beside Draco as he told her all about the constellations he knew.

 

“I know that, I wasn’t trying to say that…” Harry said, and then they both fell silent once more. “They only knew it was me because I didn’t stun Stan Shunpike. I just disarmed him… That’s when they got Voldemort onto me.”

 

Hermione felt a chill down her spine from hearing the name. Voldemort had pursued her and Kingsley too, but not for long. Seconds, maybe, but it had felt like so much longer. She’d never seen him in the flesh before, and wished that she never had, and never would have to ever again. Everytime she closed her eyes she could see his horrible red eyes staring back at her, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine the fear that Harry felt seeing him so much more often than she had. It made her think of Draco too, who’d had to live with the monster; speak to him face to face, sit at the same table as him…

 

“It’s not your fault,” Hermione said quietly. “You couldn’t have been anticipating to see someone you know.”

 

“Snape was there too,” Harry said bitterly, making Hermione’s eyes widen slightly, and she turned to look at him. “He was the one that cursed George. It was the Sectumsempra curse.”

 

“God…” Hermione breathed. She didn’t know what to say. The last time she had seen Snape had been when he was telling her to take Draco to safety, and that he would be getting in touch with Draco’s parents to tell them that their son was okay. As much as her views on Snape had been twisted into hatred since she’d first seen him, what he’d done for Draco that night, only feet from the gates of Hogwarts, had really changed her perception on just where his loyalties lay. Now, hearing from Harry that the man had cursed George and had been a part of the attack on Harry, she was just as confused again. “I don’t know how he could of…” She said quietly. “Harry, on the night of the Tower, he--”

 

She stopped talking at once when Ron and Tonks came running up the slight hill to get within the fenceline of the Burrow. Hermione swung her legs off the top post and hit the ground running beside Harry to get to them both, forgetting everything she had been planning to tell Harry.

 

“Ron, you’re okay!” She exclaimed in relief and then looked to Tonks. “Everything is okay?”

  
“Could have gone better,” Tonks shrugged with a slight smirk. “There’s not a scratch on us. Thanks to this one,” she placed her hand on Ron’s shoulder, and the tips of his ears turned red. “Stunned a Death Eater right in the head, which would have been quite the feat given how I was flying!”

 

Hermione really had to admire how Tonks was staying so strong and positive through it all. She wished that she could be too… But Tonks knew everyone she loved was safe; Remus was there, her parents were safe at home… Hermione wouldn’t be relaxing until Draco was beside her, holding her hand, proving that he was fine and alive.

 

Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder. “Ron… Let’s go inside. Don’t freak out, but--”

 

“What happened?” Ron furrowed his brows and looked towards the house and tried to walk towards it but Harry grabbed his arm.

 

“Just let me explain first,” Harry said, exasperated. “George got injured. He’s fine,” he added quickly when Ron tried to wrench his arm away. “He’s fine, I promise you, Ron, your mum’s fixing him up.” He let go of his friend’s arm then and Ron ran up to the house while Tonks turned back to Harry and Hermione.

 

“Snape cast a Sectumsempra and it hit George,” Hermione explained. “It just clipped his ear though.”

 

“He’s fine though, like I said,” Harry added. “He’s in there cracking jokes with Fred.”

 

“No surprise there,” Tonks chuckled. “Look, I better go up to the house too,” she said, and Hermione knew she wanted to go and see Remus. But just as she made to move, they all turned to look behind them when they heard the sound of someone approaching. Hermione’s heart raced, hoping it was Draco, but when she saw Bill and Fleur appear, the former dropping their now useless Portkey, although she was happy that they were safe, she was still struck with fear…  _ Where is he? _

 

After Harry told Bill and Fleur about George’s injury, they went to the Burrow with Tonks, leaving Harry with Hermione. “Do you want to come in too?” He asked her quietly. She just shook her head. She knew Harry would understand. “Just come get me if you need, ‘kay?” He asked her and gave her arm a squeeze before he headed for the house too.

 

She went back to the fence to sit on the top again, and started counting the seconds, hoping that Draco would turn up at any second. Ten minutes passed slowly, then twenty, then thirty… Her eyes were straining and hurting her by the time forty minutes had passed since Harry had gone back inside, and her panic was starting to rise once more. The rational side of her mind was telling her that she had to stay calm. Maybe Moody had decided that he and Draco should stop and take cover, lay low for a bit until the Death Eaters left. Yes...that’s what had happened…

 

By the time an hour had ticked past, Hermione got off the fence. She needed Harry and Ron; she needed some comfort, and someone to tell her that it would be okay and that ‘ _ you’ve been looking the wrong way, Hermione, he’s been inside the whole time! _ ’. She started walking towards the Burrow, and just started running when she heard something. A thump, almost. She stopped suddenly and turned around, and her heart sank when she saw Draco standing on the ground, his broom between his legs, but something was wrong… He tried to unhook one leg from over the broom, but groaned and stumbled slightly. “Draco!” She screamed and ran towards him and grabbed his arm to help him. “What happened?”

 

“I c-couldn’t get the Portkey,” Draco spoke, his voice weak, teeth chattering as he dug his fingers into Hermione’s arm as she helped him walk to the house. “H-Had to f-fly…” He stumbled, his foot catching on an uneven part of the ground, and Hermione wasn’t strong enough to keep him steady as his body lost all strength and he fell down. She was dragged with him and landed on her knees.

 

“Help!” She shouted again in the direction of the Burrow. Draco groaned in pain and she caught sight of just what damage had been done to his arm. There wasn’t even a sleeve left on his shirt, the fabric was scorched up at his shoulder with bits of thread hanging loosely. His arm was completely covered in blood, most of it coming from his forearm right where she knew his Dark Mark was. “Draco what happened to your arm?” She asked him desperately and put her hands on his cheeks to make him look at her.

 

His pupils were completely dilated and his face was a ghostly white. She could see him trying to focus on her, but not managing. “D-Don’t...know,” he managed to say in a whisper, and he screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, letting out a moan of pain. She hated that she already knew that sound from him; in her mind she was transported back to the time she sat on the bathroom floor, water and blood covering her legs as she had Draco’s head in her lap, trying to keep him conscious after he’d been cursed by Harry. It seemed like so long ago, yet the memory was still burnt into her mind.

 

“Hermione?” A voice came from the front door of the Burrow when  _ finally _ someone had opened it. It was Harry, and she looked up at him and blinked the tears out of her eyes and yelled at him to hurry. He looked back in the house and then seconds later was running out into the yard with Bill fast on his heels. “What the hell happened?!” He asked as he got closer, and practically skidded to his knees next to her.

 

“He got hit!” Hermione explained. “He d-didn’t get to the Portkey and had to fly back and I don’t know who cursed him or what with but h-he can’t focus.”

 

Bill was the one to lean down and manage to hoist Draco up into his arms, one arm behind Draco’s back, the other behind his knees. Draco groaned loudly in pain and Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as she stared helplessly. She wanted to help, she  _ needed  _ to help, but she didn’t know what to do. Her mind was running at a million miles an hour.

 

“Hermione run ahead and tell mum what’s happened,” Bill said, panting a bit as he was holding all of Draco’s weight now as he lay limp.

 

She didn’t want to leave Draco for a second and Harry spotted the look on her face, and spoke up, “I’ll go,” he said, and ran up to the house to get their first.

 

“Draco, you’ll be okay,” Hermione tried to console him, but he wasn’t looking at her at all and was groaning uncomfortably.

 

“M-Moody,” he managed to speak and Bill’s face paled and Hermione’s steps faltered. “He’s d-dead. I tried to s-save hi--”

 

“It’s alright mate,” Bill said and his steps quickened to get to the Burrow. Hermione’s heart sank. Moody was dead? What were they all meant to do now? The experienced Auror had seemed like the beacon that would help guide them all through the upcoming war. While every other Order member and Auror had experience and knowledge, Hermione knew that everyone had so much trust in Moody that he would help lead them through the war in the best way possible now that Dumbledore wasn’t there to step up to the plate.

 

They reached the house and Hermione stepped ahead to hold open the door so Bill could squeeze in with Draco. “Through here, Bill,” Molly called from the living room, her voice wavering. The room was completely packed with everyone who had been on the mission, most of them standing around the edges of the room instead of sitting on the couches. From what Hermione could see, everyone had equally grim expressions on their faces. She spotted George sitting up on the armchair, most of his head bandaged up, and Fred sat on the armrest, watching the scene unfold. If there was any positive emotion that Hermione could feel right then, it was relief that George was okay.

 

Bill deposited Draco down onto the longest couch and Hermione instantly sunk to her knees by it and placed her hand on his forehead which was searing hot. She looked up at Bill who was just staring, unsure, and then back to Molly who had a similar expression. “Do something!” Hermione pleaded and wiped fresh tears from her cheeks. She moved her gaze down to his arm and saw the damage much clearer now they were in the light. It made her sick to her stomach, looking at the curse that had practically torn open his forearm; she could see the white of his tendons, and blood...so much blood.

 

“Mad-Eye’s dead,” Bill spoke and it seemed like the already quiet room grew deathly silent.

 

Hermione was blindsided when she heard a growl of anger and footsteps fast approaching, and Remus reached the couch. “What did you do?!” He yelled and reached down to grab the collar of Draco’s shirt, and pulled him upright on the couch.

 

“Don’t!” Hermione screamed and tried to grab the wizard’s arm but was pushed off easily.

 

“Who did you tell?” Remus shouted at Draco who looked terrified and in so much pain.

 

“No...no-one,” he stammered and winced when Remus pulled him up higher and his arm fell off his lap onto the cushions. “I didn’t!” Draco pleaded.

 

“Then explain this! We were betrayed, and the only one on  _ their _ side is you!”

 

Hermione’s anger grew and she pushed Remus’s arm as hard as she could, and he let go of Draco abruptly, sending him back onto the couch and he let out a cry of pain, and curled up weakly. “Why are you doing this?!” She screamed at Remus, the man that she thought trusted Draco. “He would never betray us, and he is  _ not _ on their side!”

 

“Someone leaked the information about tonight!” Remus argued, and Hermione saw Tonks step up behind him slowly.

 

“And it wasn’t Draco!” Hermione defended him and was glad when Molly moved towards the couch to try to help him. “He’s with us now, and has been for a long time! Why would he leak anything to the side that almost killed him and his family?!”

 

“He did, it’s the only reasonable explanation,” Remus snarled.

 

“Really? So when could he have done it?” Hermione argued, willing the tears of anger to stay at bay. “Because you know as well as I do that he spent every moment, awake or not, right with me since we’ve left Hogwarts. Are you calling me a traitor too?!” She couldn’t believe that she was yelling so loudly at her ex-professor, but she was beyond livid that there was any accusations being thrown around that Draco had been the cause of the devastation that night.

 

“Remus…” Tonks said softly, and she placed her hand on her husband’s arm. “Hermione’s right…”

 

He was too angry, his shoulders heaving and his jaw tightly set. He turned to glare at Draco still curled up on the couch, and then shrugged off Tonks’s arm and walked passed everyone in the room to leave.

 

“I’m sorry,” Tonks whispered to Hermione and squeezed her arm gently and then took off after Remus.

 

Hermione held in the sob that was threatening to release itself, and she turned back to the couch and got to her knees beside Molly. “Bill, dear, get me some warm water and a cloth. Arthur, you know where the pain potions are,” the Weasley matriarch instructed calmly. Hermione sniffled and placed her hand on Draco’s leg and felt him stiffen up. She looked to his face and caught sight of it before he turned and pushed it against the pillow, hiding his face from everyone else who was staring.

 

She knew that Draco would hate to be seen like this in front of anyone that wasn’t her, let alone Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys. She turned and looked at Harry who was standing, shell-shocked, near the couch. “Please get everyone out,” she whispered to him and he took his eyes off Draco’s curled up form and nodded once and helped to usher everyone out of the room that didn’t need to be there. She knew that later she’d feel guilty and that it wasn’t her place to tell everyone to leave a part of their own home, but right then she only cared about Draco.

 

“Draco,” Molly said quietly and touched his shoulder. Hermione didn’t miss the way he tensed up when her hand made contact. “I’m going to go get everything else I need to help you, okay?” She asked, using a soothing, soft voice that Hermione didn’t think she’d ever heard before. She would never have expected to hear Mrs Weasley using it on Draco, but she’d be forever grateful; Draco needed kindness now more than ever. “Stay still and I’ll be back.” She stood up and gave Hermione a small smile and then left the living room.

 

Hermione scooted over on the floor to kneel so she was closer to Draco’s head which he still had pressed into the pillow. “Draco, it’ll stop hurting soon,” she promised him and thread her fingers through his hair. His shoulders shook and she heard him sob into the pillow and her throat tightened. She hated seeing and hearing him upset, especially when there wasn’t something she could do just herself to fix him. She slid her hand down the side of his face. “Look at me Draco,” she whispered. He turned his head slowly and his face was devoid of all colour, and his teeth were chattering slightly as tears continued to form in his eyes. “Where does it hurt? Just on your arm?” She asked. She didn’t know what spell had hit him to do the damage inflicted on his arm, and she hoped that Molly would figure out how to help him, and fast.

 

He shook his head once. “E-Everyw-where,” he managed to choke out. “My arm t-the m-most…” 

 

“Mrs Weasley’s going to fix you up, okay?” She whispered, and used her thumbs to wipe his cheeks dry. “She’ll get rid of the pain. Remember how easily you were fixed after what happened in the girl’s bathroom? You’ll be fixed again, okay? I promise.” She bit down on the inside of her cheek then and leaned forward to press her lips to his forehead. He was boiling, and knew it wasn’t a good sign, especially from how he was shivering too.

 

She had to move away when Molly, Arthur and Bill came back into the room with everything to help. It took both Weasley parents to figure out how to ease Draco’s pain enough that his head lolled to the side and his body slumped after they had him take some Calming Draught. 


	40. Downfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me. Here's a fast update as an apology for the last one being a few days late. Thank you all for your love and support on this fic, your comments make us smile every time we read them! Enjoy!

It was painstaking for Hermione, having to wait until Draco had rested enough so they could return to his Aunt’s house for the night. It was after midnight by the time Molly had deemed him well enough to travel back to Andromeda’s. Arthur had rigged a Portkey for them to take, just in case Apparating proved to be too much too soon. Molly fussed over him a bit more, adjusting his jacket and checking that he wasn’t running a fever still. 

 

“Let them go, Molly,” Arthur said kindly, placing an arm around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her away from the two of them. 

 

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley,” Hermione said. “For everything.” 

 

After saying goodbye to Ron’s parents, she and Draco left the Burrow with Kingsley following them to ensure they left safely. Both of them turned to look at him one last time and the intelligent Wizard nodded at them. Hermione clutched the old rusted kettle tighter in her hand as it began to grow blue. Draco took hold, placing his hand next to hers around the handle. She felt the familiar pull behind her navel and the next thing she knew, the world was spinning and her feet had left the ground. 

 

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe it,” Narcissa said, gaping at her injured son. Hermione stood next to the arm chair that Draco had been settled in, her cheeks stained with tears and her teeth chewing incessantly on her lip. “You--you’re alive?” she breathed, reaching a hand out to cup his cheek. He winced but managed a nod. 

 

“He was brilliant,” Hermione whispered, still shocked from the night’s events. 

 

“Mad-Eye’s dead,” he grounded out, his jaw clenched. “And I was with him.” 

 

Narcissa gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth. “The Auror?” 

 

“The one and only,” Draco spat, wincing again as he tried to sit up straighter. Andromeda came bustling in with some ice and a towel, along with a bowl of some purple paste. She crouched down on the floor beside her sister and asked him to hand her his arm. Hermione cringed as he held out his left arm. The burn looked worse now than it had when he’d first arrived at the Burrow. His Dark Mark was mutilated; exposed flesh and dried blood buried the hideous black ink. She knew it would never look the same again, and it was that thought that brought the first sign of a smile to her lips. 

 

“It’s a miracle you were able to fly yourself back,” Andromeda said grimly, looking up at him as she applied the purple paste. “This should help with the healing. You’ll need apply this every morning and night.” 

 

“Draco,” Hermione said, her voice still shaky and uneven. “There wasn’t anything else you could do, you were hurt--”

 

“George got his bloody ear blown off and Remus is still alive, isn’t he?” Draco shot back, turning his head to glare up at her. 

 

She opened her mouth to continue but Narcissa cut in before she could retort. “Draco,” she said warningly, narrowing her eyes at him.

 

Draco sighed and hung his head; Andromeda was finishing applying the paste to his arm. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

 

“You’re the only one blaming yourself for this, Draco.” Hermione reminded him. While some had been quite angry at the initial news, more specifically Remus, the severity and the mere  _ sight  _ of Draco’s injury made it hard for the anger to last. “It just so happens that Remus and George were luckier than you and Mad-Eye…” 

 

“There,” Andromeda said, standing up. “You’ll need some rest tonight.” 

 

“But we have to go back to the Burrow--” Hermione interjected, frowning at Andromeda. 

 

Andromeda gave her stern look over her shoulder. “The Burrow can wait until morning. Rest.” 

 

“You really should, darling,” Narcissa cooed, brushing through Draco’s hair. “You’ve been through a terrible ordeal tonight.” 

 

The fire crackled across from them, bathing them in a warm glow. Draco didn’t look at any of them but stared straight into the flames. Andromeda had disappeared upstairs again and Narcissa stood up and held her hand out for Draco to take. “I can stand up by myself, mother,” he said waspishly. He scowled at her and after seeing her expression, took her hand, allowing her to pull him up. “Sorry,” he said, his cheeks turning red. 

 

She kissed his forehead and brushed her fingers through his hair. “Get to bed,” she said sternly. “Both of you.” She turned to give the same pointed stare to Hermione who smiled innocently and nodded. Narcissa lingered for a moment longer, studying the two of them before she slowly made her way out of the living room and to the staircase. Hermione waited until the footsteps faded and she heard the distant sound of her door shutting. She strode over to him, her beaded bag in one hand, her wand in the other, and grabbed him by his good arm. “Come on.” 

 

“We’re not going to bed… Are we?” he groaned, but allowed her to drag him anyway. She led them into the hallway and towards the front door. “Granger?”

 

“No,” she snapped quietly. He was talking much too loud; they’d be lucky if his mother or aunt hadn’t heard him. “We’re going to the Burrow.”

 

“The Bur-- We’re going there in the morning,” he said in a low voice as they stepped into the warm mid-summer night. He tugged at her grip, almost freeing himself, but she whirled around and drew her hand from his arm quickly. They couldn’t wait until morning, didn’t he understand? There were things they needed to discuss with Harry and Ron, and her mind was still whirling with questions after tonight’s events. 

 

“We can’t until then,” she said firmly. “There’s...things we need to discuss with Harry and Ron tonight.”

 

Draco looked back at his aunt’s house and then back at her. “We should leave them a note then,” he said. “I mean, what if they wake up and panic after they realise we’re not here?”

 

Hermione hesitated, gnawing at her lip. He had a point. Surely the adults could deduce that no harm had come to them as everything in the house was left intact, but it wouldn’t take much for Andromeda, Ted and Narcissa to think they’d ran off. “Alright,” she said after a moment. “But we have to be quick.” 

 

They hurried back inside, scribbled a note as to where they had gone and fled through the front door once more. Hermione waited until they were well past the wards before turning them on the spot and disappearing in the blink of an eye. Her lungs were screaming for air, her entire body felt squished but within in seconds, the horrible feeling was gone. Their feet were on solid earth again and she no longer felt like she was being squeezed through a tube. They’d come to the hill just before the Burrow, keeping the Weasleys’ home hidden from view. With Draco’s hand still clasped in hers, they set off. 

 

Hermione thought that an alarm would be triggered inside the Burrow once they stepped into the wards, but when they grew closer to the house and no one showed up outside, Hermione assumed they’d arrived undetected. They stopped just a short walk away from the back door; looking up, she saw only one light on. The room at the very top was giving off an orange-ish glow. Hermione grinned and whispered, “Come on.” 

 

They crept quietly through the back door, shutting it softly behind them. Hermione put her arm out to stop Draco from moving, and strained her ears for any sign of that there was someone there. When she didn’t hear shuffling footsteps or anxious whispers, she nodded and they continued on towards the stairs. Before they started making their way up however, Hermione stopped them again and pressed a finger to her lips then pointed down at the stairs. He nodded, showing that he understood and they began the climb to the top floor. 

 

By the time they reached the top, Hermione felt slightly flushed and was flooded with relief that they had made it without waking Mrs Weasley. The last thing she needed was for Ron’s mum to discover her and Draco sneaking into her house in the dead of night. But, for now, there were important things that needed to be discuss with Harry and Ron. Draco, now looking anxious and displeased with where they were headed, and when they approached the closed door with a yellow light peering out into the hall, he asked what they were doing. She didn’t answer him, but knocked softly on the door, then pushed it open. 

 

As she had hoped, Ron and Harry were sitting on the floor of Ron’s cramped bedroom, talking in hushed voices. When she and Draco entered, both boys stopped to turn and look at them. Ron’s mouth fell open in shock, before he realised it and snapped his jaw shut again. Harry looked between the two of them, his green eyes locked onto hers. “There’s no way that I’m not helping you with this, Harry. And there’s no way I’m staying behind. But…” she turned to up at Draco, who seemed unsure of where to look, and had chosen straight ahead. “I won’t leave Draco behind.” Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione raised her hand and said a little louder, “Just hear me out, all right?” She heaved a deep breath and began. “I think he’s earned both of your trusts by now. He tried to defend Mad-Eye, not to mention he consented to being disguised as you Harry. It could have easily been him who had died. And think of how beneficial it could be to have him help us,” she gestured towards Draco, who looked at her in bewilderment. “He used to be on  _ his  _ side, Harry. There are things Draco may know that could help us...help you. Not to mention it’s an extra set of hands, which we’ll need with all of the work we’ll need to do.”

 

The room was silent. Ron was watching Draco closely, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. Harry, however, looked curiously at the pair of them, his chest rising and falling quicker than usual. She knew it was risky, suggesting that Draco come along, but it would be beneficial. And after everything they had been through, how could they separate knowing how easily their lives could be stripped from them? To her surprise, Harry stood up and walked over to them until he was almost nose-to-nose with Draco. She watched the two of them stare at the other intently, unblinking. “It wasn’t you who betrayed us?” Harry asked, scrutinising the blonde in front of him. Hermione opened her mouth to scold him, but Harry had sensed it and turned to look at her. “He was staying with his mother, Hermione. I have to...be sure.” 

 

Draco shook his head. “Betraying you... Betraying the  _ Order _ … It would have put Hermione in danger,” he said fiercely, his eyes glinting in the soft glow of the oil lamps. “And that is something I refuse to do. So no,  _ Potter,  _ it wasn’t me who betrayed you.” 

 

Harry clenched his jaw and shut his eyes for a moment before opening them again. He didn’t move however, but only seemed to glare at Draco harder, like he was trying to burn a hole right through him. “You’re lucky I trust Hermione’s judgement,” he said in a low voice. “But if I say you can come along, there are things we need to tell you. And when we tell you, you can never repeat it to anyone. At least not until… Just keep your mouth shut, all right? Speak about any of this to anyone besides us three, and you’ll be jeopardising the downfall of Voldemort. So unless you want that on your shoulders, I suggest you never speak a word of this.” 

 

Hermione watched nervously as Harry peered at Draco, and Draco seemed to think things over in his own mind before saying, “You have my word.” When Harry appeared unconvinced, Draco pressed on. “That--that... I don’t even know if you can call him a man... He’s hurt my family enough. He’s--” he looked at Hermione, and took her hand in his. “He wants Hermione, and everyone else like her, dead. And I want him dead.” The finality and ferocity in Draco’s tone sent shivers down her spine. 

 

Harry’s gaze flickered down to Draco’s arm, where his bandaged wound was clear to see. The next few silent filled seconds seemed to stretch on forever until Harry spoke again, with a heavy sigh and a look of resignation. He gestured for Hermione and Draco to take a seat on the floor, and Harry joined them not a moment later. “Alright,” he said, drawing his knees to his chest. “First, I want to hear what you have to offer us now that you’re joining us, then I’ll fill you in.” 

 

Straight away, Draco lunged into a speech about all the insider information he could provide, and how he still had a chance to talk to his mum about the latest going ons. Hermione leaned back so her back was resting against Ron’s bed, and listened. Her eyelids were starting to feel like weights, and all the muscles in her body seemed to relax as the realisation began to sink in that for this moment, everything was okay. Draco talked of his Occlumency skills, his knowledge of the Ministry and graphic details of his summer spent with the horrible man living in his house. By the time Draco had finished, Hermione was fighting to stay awake. Ron nudged her in the ribs and jerked his head toward Harry. She sat up straighter and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. 

 

“Right,” said Harry, glancing at Draco once more before continuing. “First and foremost, if you’re going to come with me...it means we’re not going back to Hogwarts.”

 

Ron rolled his eyes and Hermione smirked. Draco looked indifferent. “We figured that much, mate,” said Ron with a chuckle. 

 

“Good, right,” Harry said. “Then I guess, Malfoy, it’s time for you to know.” 

 

Draco quirked up at this. “Know what?” 

 

“How we plan to destroy Voldemort once and for all,” Harry said darkly. 

 

* * *

 

“I don’t know, Granger,” Draco said over an hour later as they lay on one of the beds in Fred and George’s old room. “It all sounds a bit impossible to me. I mean, even Potter said so himself, he hasn’t got a clue what the other Horcruxes could be or where they are.”

 

Overall, Hermione was proud of Draco for how well he took the news about Voldemort. He’d listened to Harry’s every word, looked properly disgusted when Harry explained what a Horcrux was, and seemed just as anxious as the rest of them about their ability to find them all. She also hadn’t missed the slight change of tone when Draco spoke to Harry from then on; he sounded more humble, like it was clear as day to him now what weight Harry carried on his shoulders. 

 

“It’s certainly not going to be easy,” she said. She laid with her head on his chest and his good arm around her shoulders. He ran his fingers up and down her bare arm, making the fine hairs stand on end. Draco had shed his shirt before they’d gotten into bed, and she’d begun to trace his old scars from the Sectumsempra incident. “But we don’t have a choice. It’s the only way. That’s why it was so imperative Harry didn’t do this on his own.” 

 

Draco hummed and said nothing more on the subject. He brought his left arm up to rest on his stomach, leaving her with a clear view of his bandaged forearm where she knew his Dark Mark was now mutilated by the burn to his skin. “It’s amazing you’re still alive, you know,” she said, half joking, half serious. She eyed his scars on his torso and then back to his forearm.

 

Draco managed a soft chuckle and hugged her closer. “Thank Merlin I am, right?” 

 

She didn’t say anything to this but instead peppered kisses along his chest and collarbone. Quietly, he said, “You know, in some way, I’m glad this is ruined now.” He lifted his left forearm. Though neither of them could see the Dark Mark, they both looked at the exact spot where it had been etched into his milky white skin. “I didn’t want it anymore anyway and...I don’t feel as though I belong with them.” 

 

Hermione tilted her head up to kiss along his jaw. “So,” she said, unable to hold back on a giggle. “Are you ready to be around Harry and Ron constantly once we leave here?” 

 

Using his good hand, he tickled her ribs, making her laugh and scrunch her nose. “Actually Granger, now that you mention it, I do look forward to sharing a tent with those two,” he said, a smirk crawling up his lips. 

 

Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. “Really?” she asked, her voice higher than usual. 

 

Draco nodded, unable to hide his playful smile any longer. He bent his head down until his lips were next to her ear and whispered, “Because they’ll be forced to hear us every time we--”

 

Hermione swatted at his chest and shot up. “Draco Malfoy, if you think we are doing  _ anything  _ sexual in the presence of my two best friends, you--” But she was cut off by the sudden sound of laughter. Draco’s body was shaking and his eyes were crinkled around the edges. She frowned for a moment then rolled her eyes and smacked his chest lightly. “That wasn’t funny,” she sniffed, though the corners of her lips betrayed her as they quirked upwards. 

 

“You should have seen your face when I said that,” he said after he’d caught his breath and his laughter subsided. “You thought I was serious! Merlin’s beard, Granger, like I want Potter and Weasley to overhear us.” 

 

“Yes, yes,” she said briskly, settling herself back into the crook of his arm. “Very funny.” Draco shifted onto his side so he was facing her, and kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. She couldn’t help but smile and kiss him again. She sighed and nestled herself closer to him, pulling the blanket tighter around her as she did so. Despite everything that had happened that night, and with everything that was to come, she was happy to be laying there next to Draco; warm, safe, and alive. And she allowed herself to relish these few moments of happiness before she drifted off to sleep. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione could not have predicted the awfulness of the next few days. Mrs Weasley had been angry with them when she’d found them in Fred and George’s room the next morning but it hadn’t lasted as she remembered the events of the night before: Mad-Eye’s death, and Draco’s substantial injury. The days that followed however, Hermione found herself more often alone than not. Mrs Weasley had put them all -- Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and Hermione -- to work. Ron had managed to pull her aside while Molly was using the restroom, and quickly told her to expect an interrogation from his mum as she knew they were planning on dropping out of Hogwarts. 

 

“Well there’s not much she can do about me, is there?” Hermione replied as she folded the last bedsheet. “I’m not her daughter, and my parents are gone now.”

 

“You know she’ll still try,” he whispered back, leaning against the doorway. He looked out into the hallway, checking that there wasn’t anyone coming. She felt his eyes on her again as she stacked the fresh pile of sheets neatly into a cupboard. “So, you definitely trust Malfoy?” 

 

Hermione sighed, her shoulders rising towards her ears as she curled her hands into fists at her side. “Yes, Ronald, I do. How many--”

 

Ron had stepped forward, into the small room and put a hand to silence her. She stopped speaking, noticing that he didn’t look or sound angry in the slightest. His features were serious; lips pressed together, brows furrowed. “Times are dark, Hermione,” he started calmly, walking closer to her all the while. “Look at the other night. If it wasn’t Malfoy who leaked the move to someone, it was still someone we were supposed to be able to trust. I’m not saying you shouldn’t trust him,” he said quickly as she opened her mouth to interject. “Just...be careful. And make sure you are absolutely certain he’s trustworthy enough to come along.” 

 

“Don’t you get it, Ron?” she said softly. “There’s nothing for him on that side. His mum is under our protection now. And Draco knows perfectly well it’d be a death sentence to try and get his father back. Draco doesn’t want any of what Voldemort’s side has to offer. His family isn’t even in good graces with... _ him.  _ This is all he has left.” 

 

Ron mumbled incoherently, rubbing his hand through his hair. “We all need to be careful,” he said. They heard a door creak open and the shuffling of footsteps. “Damn, my mum! I gotta go, Hermione. Remember what I said.” And as quickly as he had appeared not even five minutes ago, he was gone. 

 

* * *

 

It had become a daily routine to dine with Order Members that stayed for dinner, as the Burrow was the new Headquarters. Hermione had never seen the Burrow as full as it had been this past week. Between Bill and Fleur staying until the wedding, Draco and the fleeting Order Members, the house were packed tight. She hadn’t the faintest idea how Mrs Weasley was planning on housing so many guests. 

 

Tonight they were joined by Kingsley as he accompanied Bill and Mister Weasley home. Plates of pork chops, chicken, roast potatoes and casseroles were passed around the cramped table. Hermione sat between Draco and Ginny, with Harry on Ginny’s other side. Hermione had secretly been keeping an eye on the two as much as she could these past few days, and she’d noticed the glances they’d been sneaking to one another. She smiled to herself as she cut into her chicken, the chatter of conversation masking the sound of clinking silverware. 

 

“The Daily Prophet probably won’t mention Mad-Eye,” Bill said. “But that’s not exactly surprising, is it?” 

 

The conversation flowed into how Scrimgeour was choosing to act in the war, including how he was treating the public. She heard the edge in Harry’s voice as he questioned Mister Weasley about the actions of their new Minister, and didn’t blame him for the tone. The Ministry had treated him horribly the previous two years; from the charges they brought against him after the Dementor attack, to painting him as a liar to the Wizarding World. It was when dessert started that Fleur changed the subject to the wedding and how Harry and Draco would be disguised. Mrs Weasley agreed, but dismissed them all with separate chores. Hermione made to get up and leave, but when Draco didn’t follow after her, she hung back. 

 

“Go on,” he told her, resting his hand on the small of her back. “I just need to have a word with Fleur. See if she’ll let my mum come to her wedding.” 

 

She nodded and headed upstairs to Mister and Mrs Weasley’s bedroom. Mrs Weasley had asked her to change the sheets in their bedroom, but Hermione knew already she’d done that the previous day, so she sat on their bed for a few minutes  She peered out into the hallway and when there was no sign of Ron’s mum bustling around, she darted towards the stairs landing to fetch Draco from the floor below. She found him emerging from the bathroom, and she wasted no time in grabbing him by his shirt and steering him back towards the staircase. “Come on,” she whispered as they climbed. “Up to Ron’s room before his mum finds us.” 

 

They took the stairs two at a time until they reached Ron’s room. He whirled around looking angry at first, a pair of socks in one hand, then calmed down when he saw it was them. “Oh,” he said. “It’s just you two.” 

 

“Your mum asked me to change the sheets yesterday,” she replied as she crossed Ron’s room to the stack of books she’d been itching to go through for days. “Help me with these please, Draco?” 

 

Draco sat down next to her on the floor, leaning against the wall. Ron was sorting through the clothes scattered all over his room, creating a pile for the dirty and the clean. Hermione picked up  _ Numerology and Grammatica,  _ studied the cover for a moment and flipped through the pages before handing it to Draco and instructing him to set it down beside him. “I’ll hand you the ones we’re not taking, all right?” 

 

She and Draco went through several books, with him sometimes weighing in whether he thought it could be useful or not. She’d just picked  _ The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts  _ when Ron’s bedroom door opened and Harry came in. He nodded at her and Draco when he noticed them and went to sit down on his cot. “You managed to get away from Ron’s mum,” he commented. 

 

Hermione looked up, his words taking a moment to register with her. “Oh, yeah, I did. She forgot she already asked me to change the sheets. So I found Draco and we snuck up here.” 

 

Ron was now moving around his room collecting owl droppings, wrappers and any other trash laying around. Harry looked unsettled, fidgety. He kept glancing around the room and wringing his hands. She watched his foot bounce up and down as he sat idle on the edge of his bed. Hermione sighed and carefully handed Draco  _ The Monster Book of Monsters  _ to place in the discard pile. “Is this what I think it’s about, Harry?” she asked gently. 

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he answered gruffly, his jaw clenched and his posture stiff. 

 

“Oh come off it,” she said. “You’re doubting that we want to go with you.” 

 

Harry didn’t answer. Ron looked around at her, then at Harry. His shoulders sagged and his features fell. “Seriously, mate? This again?” he asked incredulously, clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You can’t think we’re letting you do this by yourself.” 

 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Harry retorted. “This isn’t your problem. It’s...mine. Why should you all risk--”

 

“Harry,” she cut across him sharply, slamming  _ Hogwarts, A History  _ on top of the growing pile that she would take with them. “We’re coming with you. We both decided that a long time ago.”

 

Draco cleared his throat beside her; she turned to him, startled, and saw that his cheeks were flushed slightly. “Quit acting noble, Potter. You’ve said so yourself: this is going to be difficult.” 

 

Harry avoided their gaze, his jaw clenched. Then to her surprise Ron said, “Malfoy’s got a point, mate. You can’t expect to find the Horcruxes on your own, can you?” 

 

There was a moment’s silence before Harry said with a sigh of resignation, “Have you all at least thought this through? I mean thoroughly, because--”

 

“My parents had their memories modified and now live in Australia, so there’s no chance they can be questioned about our whereabouts. Draco and I have been brushing up on defensive spells and jinxes for the past few weeks, and I’ve spent the last few days packing all of our belongings so if we ever need to leave, we’ll have everything we need. Oh, and I nicked Mad-Eye’s entire stock of Polyjuice Potion, which Ron’s mum hasn’t even noticed.” 

 

Draco looked at her in mild surprise, a smirk on his lips. “You did?” She nodded, blushing. Just as he leaned in to kiss her out of habit, they heard Ron make a noise of disgust and Harry say, “You modified your parents’ memories? Blimey…” 

 

Hermione moved back from Draco, and looked at her best friend once more. “Well, it wasn’t me who did the actual memory charm, but yes.” Her voice started to shake at the topic of her parents; she hadn’t properly thought about them in weeks; it was easier not to. “We’ve tried to tell you, Harry. We’re prepared…” 

 

At that moment, Ron stood up from beside Harry and pulled him up with him. “Come on,” he said. “There’s something I need to show you.” 

 

Draco looked over at her curiously when they left, but she just grinned and shook her head. “Ron disguised the ghoul that lives in the attic, as him with spattergroit. That way, if anyone comes looking for him after he doesn’t turn up at Hogwarts, his parents can show them the ghoul.” Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust, gazing upward at the ceiling. “It’s the best we could do, considering the circumstances,” she added after a moment. 

 

Ron and Harry came back down, and she and Draco returned to sorting books while Ron explained the plan to Harry. Just then, they heard the familiar shouts of Mrs Weasley from below. 

 

“Why are Fleur’s parents coming two days before the wedding anyway?” Ron mumbled grumpily. 

 

“Gabrielle is a bridesmaid, they need her to be at the rehearsal,” Hermione answered matter-of-factly. “Anyway,” she continued. “We need to talk about where we’re going to go after we leave here, Harry. I understand that you want to go to Godric’s Hollow, but it seems risky. Not to mention, shouldn’t we be looking for the Horcruxes first?” 

 

“Wait… What’s Godric’s Hollow?” Draco interjected, but Hermione ignored him and continued to stare imploringly at Harry. She knew he wanted to go back and see where he had lived, where his parents had died, but it didn’t feel right returning just yet. 

 

“Only problem is we don’t know where any of the Horcruxes are,” Harry countered, sounding frustrated. 

 

“Alright,” she said bracingly. “But Harry, isn’t it possible Voldemort is expecting you go to back there?” 

 

Harry’s mouth snapped shut, and his gaze fell to the floor. She could tell he hadn’t thought of this possibility. Ron then brought up the locket, and the note that had been left inside it. “So let’s say we do find the locket,” Ron said. “We still don’t know how to destroy a Horcrux.” 

 

“Erm,” she said uncertainly, digging in the pile of the books next to her. “Actually, I do know how.” She pulled out the copy of  _ Secrets of the Darkest Art  _ and rest it in her lap.

 

Silence fell between the four of them, as though none of them dared speak in the book’s presence, except after a solid ten seconds of silence, Draco seemed to have found his voice. “Where did you get that, Granger?” he asked, pointing at the book and looking at her with wide eyes. 

 

She blushed and ran her hand over the worn and faded cover. “I summoned it from Professor Dumbledore’s office,” she said quietly. “I’ve been reading through it and…” she shut her eyes and swallowed, a shiver running down her spine as she recalled the contents of the book. “It’s awful. I didn’t manage to read much, but from what I did… I have no idea how Voldemort managed to split his soul six times. It’s dangerous enough to split your soul once.” 

 

“Can you, I mean, are you able to put yourself back together?” Ron asked, a look of disgust and horror etched in his freckled features. 

 

Hermione scoffed. “If you feel remorse for what you’ve done. It’s painful though, painful enough to destroy you in the process.” Three of them shuddered; Harry continued gazing at the floor, apparently lost in thought. She inhaled sharply, remembering their original topic of conversation and flipped through the pages until she found the page she was looking for. “It tells you how to destroy them,” she whispered, looking solely at Harry. “There aren’t many ways to destroy a Horcrux. In fact, the way you destroyed Riddle’s diary is one of the few ways, Harry.” 

 

Ron gave a loud, bitter laugh. “Fantastic,” he said sarcastically. “ I’m so glad we have a copious amount of Basilisk fangs!” 

 

“You stabbed a diary with a Basilisk fang?” Draco said, now looking up at Harry. 

 

“Yes, he did,” Hermione said rather impatiently. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be a Basilisk fang, Ron. The main objective is to use something that will prevent the Horcrux from repairing itself; something powerful, dangerous, destructive. That’s the tricky bit…” 

 

Their conversation on Horcruxes continued, as Hermione explained what she knew from the reading she’d done. Their only interruption came some fifteen minutes later when Mrs Weasley burst into Ron’s room and reminded them all they said they would help sort the wedding gifts. 

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

He’d never been to a wedding before, but now in the past couple of weeks, he’d been to two! He’d seen pictures of Wizarding weddings before this all in his mother’s magazines and sometimes The Daily Prophet _.  _ He’d attended his fair share of Christmas Balls hosted at the Manor, and various get-togethers between the Purebloods so he was used to flower arrangements and color schemes and decorations, but even he had to admit, the Burrow looked stunning.  _ Or as stunning as it could look _ , he thought as he stood off to the side of the tent with a goblet in hand. He watched the guests mingle, catching up, and family members being reunited. 

 

The ceremony hadn’t started yet, and he hadn’t seen Hermione since before he’d took the Polyjuice Potion. This evening he was pretending to be a boy named Oliver who was a friend of Hermione’s from her neighbourhood. The twins had said there was a muggle boy a few hills over and they had managed to nick some of his hair with a summoning spell, just as they had done for Potter. It was only the second time in Draco’s life that he’d taken Polyjuice Potion, and it’d been just as unpleasant as the first time. His hair was a dirty blonde and wavy, the fringe falling to his brows and nearly covering his ears. He had shrunk a good two or three inches, but had a bit more muscle on him than his own body did. His eyes were no longer a cool grey, but a golden brown, much like Hermione’s own eye color. 

 

He scanned the crowd, spotting at least ten heads of flaming red hair. He saw Luna Lovegood and a man with the same platinum blonde hair as her; he could only assume it was her father. He recognised Viktor Krum and scowled before he sipped from his goblet. Granger had gone to the Yule Ball with Krum, and he hoped the Quidditch player didn’t have anything in mind once he spotted her. More guests filed past into the tent as he continued to look for Hermione. He was so focused on finding her that he didn’t see Tonks and Lupin heading his way. “Wotcher,” she said with a wink. He jumped in surprise then nodded at them. Tonks leaned forward and said, “Arthur told us what you looked like.”

 

“Right,” he said, not really sure what to else to say. Tonks took care of that for him, as she stepped even closer to him and asked in a low voice, “Have you seen Harry? We want to apologise for not coming to his birthday dinner.” 

 

To be frank, he hadn’t even realised his cousin and her husband hadn’t attended Potter’s party. The day had been a blur between helping set up, the actual party, and the unexpected arrival of the Minister of Magic who had asked for Harry, Ron and Hermione to follow him to a private place. It had only been when they’d all came back outside that Draco found out they’d all been given items thanks to Dumbledore bequeathing them to the three in his will.

 

Draco had actually seen Harry not too long ago at the wedding, but he had no idea where he’d gone after he spotted him talking to Fred and George. “I think he went that way,” he told his cousin, who thanked him with another wink and set off with Remus. 

 

Deciding that he didn’t want to run into anyone else he knew at the moment, and having no desire to find his mother right now, he meandered through the crowd in search for Hermione.  _ She’s bound to be here somewhere,  _ he told himself. He saw Hagrid, taller than any of the guests, talking to Mister and Mrs Weasley and an elderly woman with flaming red hair who was muttering to herself. His gaze followed her as she hobbled by him, and not a moment later, he ran into something hard and solid. He stumbled backwards, before steadying himself and looked over to see Ron staring at him. “Malfoy?” he mouthed, cocking his head to the side. 

 

Draco nodded. He stepped closer to Ron and leaned forward, “Have you seen Hermione?” he muttered, looking around to make sure no one was aware of their conversation. Ron frowned slightly and jerked his head back towards the direction from which he came. Draco mumbled, “Thanks,” and set off across the yard. 

 

_ How many fucking Weasley’s are there?  _ He asked himself as he passed four more people with that familiar red hair. Just when his frustration was beginning to peak and he had started grinding his teeth, he spotted another flash of red. But this red was different; where the Weasley’s red hair had a strong orange tint to it, this flash of red had been almost as dark as blood. His gaze flickered over the small group of people, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he spotted it again. It was Hermione. She had stopped moving when she spotted him as well, their eyes locked on one another. Draco’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes drinking in her appearance. Her hair fell in soft, loose curls just past her shoulders. The red dress she wore fell to just above her knees and flared out slightly at her waist, the neck scooped low and came up in thick straps to her shoulders. 

 

The memory of their fourteen year old selves at the Yule Ball flashed before his eyes. She’d rendered him speechless that night, and here she stood, doing it to him again. Only this time, he was okay with it. She had looked beautiful the night of the Yule Ball, but she’d grown and changed over the past two years. Her hair had tamed itself slightly, her muscles were more toned and defined and she carried herself differently too; more confident and sure of herself than she had been at fifteen -- something he didn’t think possible. His lips pulled into a smile as he forced his feet to move forward. 

 

Hermione had begun to walk forwards the precise moment he’d taken his first step to her, their eyes still locked. She was beaming at him, her cheeks turning redder as they grew closer. When he reached her, she whispered, “Hi,” as his arms wrapped around her waist and his lips met hers. Her lips were warm against his and...was that a hint of cinnamon he detected? Her hand came up to rest against his cheek before she pulled herself away, still blushing. “We should go find some seats,” she murmured, reaching for his hand with her free one. He nodded, and she let her hand fall from his face. 

 

They started the walk across the yard back toward the tent, where they could see the guests beginning to gather. “I think the ceremony’s starting soon,” he said. 

 

“Ooh, I hope we manage to get seats with Harry and Ron!” she said from the right of him, craning her head and standing on her tiptoes as they walked in hopes of spotting her two best friends. Draco groaned internally, but smiled at the sight of her; excited and grinning from ear to ear, practically radiating with joy. His stomach flipped. He squeezed her hand tighter and ground his teeth, trying to drown out the little voice in his head whispering  _ she’s too good for you.  _

 

Much to his dismay, they had successfully scored seats with Potter and Weasley. Draco couldn’t decided which was worse, having to look at Potter and his scar, or Potter disguised as another Weasley. The ceremony itself didn’t last long. Once the wedding party had marched down the aisle in pairs, and Fleur joined Bill at the altar, it was over within minutes. Their mothers sobbed, Fleur looked stunning in her gown, and Hermione gave him a watery smile as bride and groom kissed. They were instructed to rise from their seats, and Draco watched in awe as the rows of seats were swept away and a dance floor was set in place with surrounding tables for groups of threes and fours. Food appeared on the tables to the side, and the guests immediately crowded towards them. 

 

Draco followed Hermione through the crowd towards the tables on the outskirts of the tent, her hand in his. He had let out a soft sigh of relief when Potter broke away from them, however Ron remained with them. The three of them no sooner sat down before they were joined by Ginny, who looked slightly disgruntled. “I swear if Aunt Muriel says one more thing about my dress…” she muttered, shaking her head and glaring at the elderly woman. “I’ll give her a bat-bogey hex ten times worse than the one I gave you, Malfoy.” 

 

He scowled, while Ron snorted and Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth, suppressing her giggles. “I’m sorry,” she said, dropping her hand from her mouth and pressing her lips together. “It’s just-- Merlin, I could only imagine how awful that would be. She casts a mean one.” 

 

“I remember,” he said through gritted teeth. He’d give anything to get away from Ron and Ginny, but he knew Hermione would want to stay with them for a bit. More than anything, he was desperate for a change of subject, which is why he was relieved when Ginny had asked where Harry had gotten off to. 

 

“Why do you care so much?” Ron asked scathingly. “You two broke it off, remember?” 

 

Draco’s jaw dropped slightly, Hermione let out a small gasp, and Ginny glared at her brother with such intensity, Draco was surprised Ron hadn’t burst into flames. “No Ronald, I haven’t forgotten!” she said shrilly, her face almost as red as her hair. “It doesn’t mean he’s not my friend anymore.” 

 

Ron stammered at the retreating form of Ginny, who marched off towards the dance floor before disappearing into the sea of dancing guests. Draco avoided looking at the redhead and instead turned his attention to Hermione. She was too busy glaring at Ron, however. “Tactless,” she tutted, and shook her head. 

 

“Well it’s true!” Ron said defensively. “It’s not like she’s over him…” he paused, picking lint off his robes, his cheeks turning redder with every passing second. “And I highly doubt he’s over her…” 

 

Hermione pursed her lips and stood up from her seat. “They’re both intelligent, Ronald. And they’re old enough to make their own decisions.” She finally turned to Draco, holding out her hand for him to take. “Care to dance?” He nodded eagerly, and led the two of them to the dance floor. 

 

They found a little clearing near the center of the dance floor, and both of them easily fell into the slow song the band was currently playing. Between the soothing melody of the song, the warm summer air, and the smile on Hermione’s face as she danced with him, he couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed, at ease. For once, they were a regular couple, just enjoying a dance together. 

 

* * *

 

He and Hermione danced for what felt like hours before she started complaining their her shoes were killing her feet and she wanted some fresh air. At the end of the upbeat song that was currently playing, Draco took her hand and wove through the crowd once more. Sweat was beading his forehead and beginning to drip down his face. He’d loosened his tie long ago and had rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Hermione was carrying her shoes in her other hand, and he’d seen the thin sheen of sweat glistening on her chest and neck. Cool air smacked him right in the face as they broke free of the crowd and headed to the field near by; still within the wards, but far enough away from the crowd. 

 

Simultaneously, they flopped down into the grass. Draco let out a long, slow breath as his body began to cool and his heart rate slowed. Hermione hummed quietly next to him, her hand still in his. “You know,” she said after they lay there in silence for several minutes. “I thought it would bother me a bit that you don’t look like yourself tonight, but I don’t really mind it.” 

 

“No?” he said, turning his head to the side to look at her properly. 

 

She shook her head, her curls splayed out around her in the grass, and then smiled, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight and her cheeks flushed pink. His heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he’d forgotten they were having an actual conversation. A sky full of burning stars above them, and all he could look at was her. 

 

“No,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “I still know it’s you...you’re still Draco, but-- Oh I don’t know. We got to enjoy ourselves, didn’t we? Hardly anyone asked questions...no one stared...it was nice.” 

 

He hummed in agreement, his thumb running slow circles on the back of her hand. He didn’t disagree with her; they’d had a wonderful evening, more wonderful than he would ever admit. But he felt a stab of regret that it hadn’t actually been him who danced with Hermione tonight -- the real him. He didn’t say anything more to her comment, and when she didn’t add to the topic either, he knew she was just as comfortable with the silence that had fallen over them as he was. 

 

The wedding guests were barely audible over the sounds of bugs chirping and the gentle breeze sweeping over them. He could see her chest rising and falling steadily as she stared up at the inky black sky above them and for the first time in weeks, he felt himself truly relax. He let his worries for his mother, for himself, and for Hermione float into the wind. His stomach was full, his muscles were tired from dancing, and for once, he didn’t feel as though there was a weight sitting on his shoulders. A part of him desperately wanted to spend the rest of his life in this exact moment. Just him and Hermione, enjoying the silence and admiring the world above. 

 

His heart began to swell in his chest as a tidal wave of emotion flooded through him. He’d never taken their time together for granted, but every aspect about tonight made him realise just how strong his feelings for Hermione were. She’d introduced him into an entirely new world. If it weren’t for her, he’d probably be in Malfoy Manor with his parents, fulfilling Voldemort’s wishes and demands, trapped in their own home with no way of escaping. Draco turned his head to look at her. “Hermione,” he murmured quietly. 

 

Hermione turned her head, a slightly dazed look on her face and said, “Hmm?” 

 

He drew a deep breath; it wasn’t often that he opened up or shared his personal feelings. “I just want to say--” But at that moment, his words were lost as a burning ball of bright blue fire fell from the sky, aiming right at the tent. “What the--” he mumbled, squinting up at the ball of fire, and he propped himself up on his elbows. 

 

The ball of fire burst through the top of the tent, and before he could register what was happening, he heard shrieks and Hermione was pulling him to his feet, urging him to move quickly. They were mere feet from the entrance of the tent, when they heard the booming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt echo through the night. 

 

“ _ The Minister of Magic is dead. Our Ministry has fallen. Leave, now!”  _

 

Hermione gasped beside him, the two of them frozen just outside the tent. “Harry!” he heard her whisper. Draco slipped his free hand into his jacket, and gripped his wand, pulling it out to hold steady in front of him. And then he froze, an overwhelming sense of dread as he remembered his mother, aunt and uncle were here as well. “Hermione, my mum!” he said, holding her back from running forward. 

 

She looked at him with mingled horror and sorrow. “Draco, we have to go!” she pleaded, tugging him forward as he searched for his mother who was also disguised using Polyjuice. “I’m sorry,” she said as he struggled against her. 

 

“I can’t leave her!” he shouted, yanking his arm free. But Hermione was quick. She grasped his hand tightly and tried to pull him along. “We have to go now, Draco! She’ll be safe, she has your aunt,” she reasoned as he still stood rooted to the spot, refusing to take one step. The screams around them were growing louder and more black cloaks were appearing... They were running out of time…

 

He could leave her and find his mum, but who knew if he’d be able to meet up with Hermione again. He’d already promised he’d go with them… He knew he’d have to say goodbye to his mother some day to help but he didn’t think it would be like this. He scanned the crowd quickly once more, hoping that fate would give them one last moment. If he could just see her, know that she was alive before he had to leave. 

 

“I’m sorry, mum,” he whispered and turned to nod at Hermione. Relief flooded her face before they ran into the crowd of terrified and confused wedding guests, as she screamed Harry and Ron’s names over and over again. He shoved people out of their way, clearing a path for the both of them, his eyes scanning frantically for Weasley and Potter, something he thought he’d never do. 

 

“There!” she shouted, pointing slightly to their right. And sure enough, he could see one red headed freckled figure running towards them, alongside Potter whose Polyjuice Potion had clearly worn off. His heart skipped a beat and a wave of panic hit him like a train; had his worn off too? He could see figures in black cloaks firing spell after spell at the scattering wedding guests. They were only a foot away now….Hermione stretched out her free hand to them…

 

The four of them practically collided together before they were turning on the spot and vanishing in thin air. 

 

* * *

 

A busy street riddled with large metal contraptions moving at various speeds appeared before them. Draco looked around, drinking in the rest of his surroundings. Hermione was urging them to walk. People surrounded them everywhere he looked, not paying the four of them any mind. They were dressed differently too, not a single person was dressed in robes. If he had to guess, he would say he was completely surrounded by Muggles. 

 

“Where are we, Hermione?” Ron asked as the three boys struggled to keep up with her. 

 

She glanced over her shoulder briefly, her eyes wide with worry. “Tottenham Court Road,” she said briskly, quickening her pace. “Quickly now, we need to find somewhere to change!” 

 

“But Hermione,” Ron said, looking around in alarm at woman laughing obnoxiously. “We don’t have our clothes with us.” 

 

“Damn, my cloak! I should have had it on me…” Harry muttered under his breath, scolding himself. Despite the seriousness of their situation, Draco was secretly eager to see Potter’s cloak up close. 

 

“Shh!” she spat, turning to scowl at the three of them. Draco smirked at the back of her head, and almost ran into Weasley when he realised they’d come to an abrupt stop. “Down here,” he heard Hermione say. 

 

The alley she took them down was narrow and completely dark, save for the street lights and shops lighting up either end of the alley. Hermione was ruffling in her beaded-bag while Ron lit the tip of his wand, barely illuminating them with a dull, dim light. Draco looked at her in alarm when he realised her entire arm was stuffed into her bag. “Er, Granger…?” he said.

 

“It’s an Undetectable Extension Charm,” she explained. “I think I’ve done alright, honestly. Everything we need I’ve packed in here.” She then pulled out three pairs of trousers and three shirts. “Quickly, all of you change,” she demanded as she pulled out a change of clothes for herself. Draco immediately stepped in front of her, blocking her from view of Harry and Ron. There was hardly any need however, as both boys had turned their backs. 

 

“Hermione,” Harry said after he’d slipped his shirt on over his head. “Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts but when exactly did you find the time--”

 

“While we were at the Burrow,” she said, sounding exasperated. “I’ve had my bag packed for days. Your rucksack is in here too, by the way.” 

 

“Granger,” Draco cut in before the other three could say anything more. “You’re supposed to get approval from the Ministry for that Charm.” 

 

Her cheeks flushed red and her lips spread into a shy smile. “Well, our government isn’t exactly fit to give permission, is it?” Draco smiled at her fondly. Something snapped in her mind however, and her worried expression reappeared, and she dug for something else in her bag. “Draco, Harry, you two are at the most risk. Both of you get under the cloak and stay under there until we get somewhere safe!” Draco felt the smile melt off of his face. He had to be under the cloak with Potter? Sure he had never used a real invisibility cloak before, but he didn’t want his first experience to include walking alongside Potter. He stared at Potter, who was holding the cloak and looking off to the right over his shoulder, and turned to give Hermione one last desperate look. “Draco, please now is not the time. Get under the cloak!” 

 

Left with no other choice, Draco stepped under the cloak with Harry and crouched down as he instructed so their ankles wouldn’t be seen. Both he and Harry kept a tight grip on their wands as they followed Ron and Hermione out of the alley and back onto the main road. The street was less crowded now; only three men occupied the other side of the street. As they walked, he heard the men whistling and calling out to Hermione. Draco scowled and aimed his wand at them under the cloak. Beside him, Potter hissed, “Don’t.” Draco let out a low growl but didn’t shift the position of his wand. “I don’t blame you for wanting to, but don’t.” 

 

Hermione hadn’t been oblivious to the men’s calls and ducked into the nearest cafe, with the three of them at her heels. The bell tinkled over their heads as they entered the dimly lit cafe and Draco wrinkled his nose at the smell of cleaning chemicals and stale coffee. It was with mild difficulty that Harry and Draco managed to slide into the second booth, facing the door. Ron slid in next to them, while Hermione sat across from them. Draco shifted uncomfortably beneath the cloak, accidentally elbowing Harry in the ribs. “Watch it,” Harry muttered. 

 

Silence fell upon them once they were settled. Draco wished he could have sat with Hermione but instead he was stuck between the two boys he disliked the most for the past six years. At least if he’d been sitting with her, he’d be semi-comfortable in their current situation. He had to admit, now that they were just sitting here, he was starting to feel nervous and on edge. What were they going to do? Where were they going to go? Three of his family members were at the Burrow when they’d left, had they made it out alive? His stomach churned at the sickening thoughts forming in his head. 

 

“The Leaky Cauldron isn’t far from here, is it?” Ron said, keeping his voice low. 

 

“We can’t go there,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “It’s too--”

 

“We could find out what’s going on,” he argued. Draco wished he was at least able to speak, but he spotted the only waitress in the shop heading their way. 

 

“Voldemort’s taken over the Ministry, Ron,” she snapped. “Kingsley’s message said it all.” 

 

Ron fell silent while Hermione ordered two cappuccinos. The bell tinkled again and in walked two workmen who sat down at the booth in front of them. Hermione had glanced over her shoulder when she’d heard the bell, and he saw the way she stiffened at the presence of the two men. She leaned in towards the center of the table and whispered, “We could go out the countryside and send a message to the Order.”

 

“What, you mean you know how to send a Patronus with a message?” Ron asked, bewildered. Hermione nodded solemnly, holding her steaming mug close to her. 

 

Ron took a sip of his cappuccino and nearly spit the content back into the cup. “That’s disgusting, that is,” he grumbled, pushing his cup away from him. Hermione stiffened again as the waitress went over to take the workmen’s orders, and Draco found it out odd when they dismissed her. “If that’s the plan then, we should get going,” Ron said. Hermione agreed and began to dig for money to pay for their drinks.

 

And that’s when Draco saw it. Both of the workmen reached inside their uniforms. Draco nudged Harry again, this time on purpose, and jerked his head ever so slightly at the two men, his own wand already aimed at them. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. 

 

The workmen raised their wands and Harry and Draco mirroring their movements. Ron dove across the table and pulled Hermione down. The first spell from the Death Eaters whizzed by Harry and Draco, crashing into the tile wall and sending bits of wall and dust everywhere. He heard Hermione squeal and Harry yell, “Stupefy!” 

 

Draco watched, frozen, as the larger of the two Death Eaters was hit directly in the face by Harry’s spell. The Death Eater’s eyes went blank, his jaw slacked and his body slumped down in his seat. The other Death Eater looked around the cafe wildly, unable to find the source of the spell. He raised his wand, aimed it at Ron instead and next thing Draco knew, Weasley was lying on the floor of the cafe restricted from head to foot by black rope. Hermione had crawled under the table, out of view from the men. Simultaneously, Harry and Draco shot a stunning spell at the remaining Death Eater but their spell was blocked with ease. The Death Eater then sent the two spells rebounding around the cafe until Draco saw the waitress fall to a heap on the floor. He cringed, feeling sorry for the innocent woman, before he turned back to the threat at hand. 

 

Both boys had risen to their feet, though still under the cloak. The Death Eater fired another spell, blowing up the table behind them. Draco didn’t have time to draw breath before he and Harry were sent flying backwards, their heads smacking against the tile wall. He heard the sound of wood clattering against linoleum, and felt the cloak slip off their bodies. Draco groaned, a dull throbbing already forming at the back of his head. 

 

“Petrificus Totalus!” he heard Hermione cry. Draco opened his eyes just in time to see the Death Eater fall to the floor as stiff as a board. He turned to Harry, who was clambering around for his wand, both of them still breathing heavy. 

 

“You were quick on the uptake,” Draco commented, as they stood up and Harry gathered the cloak. 

 

Harry shrugged as Ron and Hermione joined them near the frozen Death Eater. “Have to be. It’s like Mad-Eye said, constant vigilance.” He paused, “Good on you for spotting them in the first place.” 

 

The four of them stood in silence for a moment, taking in the debris that littered the floor, the unconscious waitress, and the two helpless Death Eaters. Draco stared down into the dark face of the man lying on the ground before them; every bit of him shaking as the man’s eyes widened as he stared at Draco.  _ He recognises me. _ Draco heard the sound of crunching glass, then felt a small hand squeeze his arm. “Draco,” Hermione said quietly, so that neither Harry or Ron could hear. 

 

“I know them,” he said hoarsely. “This one’s Dolohov. The blonde is Rowle.” He paused, “Dolohov definitely recognised me. No doubt he recognised you too, Potter, once the cloak slipped off. Best thing to do is wipe their memories.” 

 

When silence followed his suggestion, he looked up and turned around to see all three of them staring at him blankly. Then finally, Harry cleared his throat and said, “Malfoy’s got a good point. Anything worse than this, and it’d make it obvious we were here.” 

 

“Wonderful,” said Ron. “Except, does anyone else know how to do a Memory Charm? I don’t.” 

 

Draco and Harry shook their heads. The four of them continued to stare down at Dolohov. Then, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her, Hermione said, “I know the theory.” He heard the strain in her voice, the tightness in her throat and his heart ached for her. When she stepped forward to get closer to the Death Eater that lay paralysed on the floor, he followed her, placing his hand on the small of her back. 

 

“Hermione,” he whispered. “Are you sure about this?” She nodded, albeit stiffly. He stood next to her, his hand still on her back as she aimed her wand at his head and said, “Obliviate.” 

 

They watched as Dolohov’s eyes went blank. He and Hermione went to take care of Rowle and the innocent waitress while Harry and Ron started cleaning up the shop. Almost fifteen minutes later, with the cafe looking as it had when they’d arrived and both Death Eaters propped up in their booths, they were ready to leave.

 

“How did they find us?” Hermione asked, her voice trembling slightly. Draco gripped her hand tighter. He had no idea how they’d been found, and he didn’t like it anymore than they did. “It couldn’t be the Trace, could it? You don’t still have it on you, do you Harry?” 

 

“Regardless, we need to get somewhere safe.” Harry said almost at once. 

 

Draco stared at him incredulously. “I think it’s pretty important how they found us, Potter. What if it happens again? Are we going to be fighting Death Eaters every time we go someplace new?” he spat, his temper flaring. 

 

“No,” Ron piped up. “Harry’s right. We have no way of knowing for sure. Best thing to do is get somewhere safe. We need to think properly.” 

 

Draco kept his mouth shut as Hermione steered him towards the cafe doors, Harry and Ron behind them. Hermione stopped short of the doors however, and demanded that he and Harry get back under the cloak. The two of them sighed and grumbled under their breath as Harry threw the cloak over them. The bell tinkled once more as they stepped back out onto the street. The four of them joined hands, and Draco caught a few last glimpses of the now barren Muggle street before disappearing into the night.


	41. Hidden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24! Sorry for the lateness guys; we've both got stuff going on and filler chapters like these that are based off of canon can be tricky to write sometimes. Hopefully the chapter makes up for it and you all enjoy! Happy reading! :) Thanks so much for all the love and comments xx

**Draco**

 

Apparition felt dreadful, and he’d always thought that, so when he arrived on firm ground when they arrived to wherever Hermione had apparated them to, Draco was glad to breathe without his chest feeling constricted. He let go of Harry’s arm which he’d had to hold for the side-apparition to work, but still held tightly onto Hermione’s hand. He looked at where they were and was confused… It was a street square with tall houses all around it, they didn’t look grand or special, but rather bleak actually. “Where are we?” he asked quietly.

 

Hermione looked over to him with a strange look before she gasped. “Twelve Grimmauld Place, the ex-Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,” she said, almost as if she had read it from a book rather than simply telling him where they stood.

 

His eyes widened when slowly it seemed the houses on the street seemed to shift and a new house was revealed. “What the f--” he trailed off.

 

“Technically, we’re Secret Keepers now,” Hermione told Draco. “So we can tell you that it’s here.”

 

“Why is it the  _ ex _ -Headquarters?” he asked.

 

Harry stiffened beside him and took the cloak off them both and crossed the street. “Come on,” he muttered to everyone and strode up to the door.

 

Draco looked to Hermione once more, unsure of what was happening. “Dumbledore was the Secret Keeper,” she told him quietly as they crossed the street too, slower than Harry and Ron. Draco swallowed once and nodded, letting her continue. “After his death, everyone who knew about this place became Secret Keepers. So Snape knows about it…”

 

“Ah…” he breathed. The Order were still completely under the impression that Snape wasn’t on their side. Which confused Draco beyond all belief… If he was apart of the Order, why had he so willingly helped him with his task, and then gone on to kill Dumbledore? His headache was threatening to become even worse the more he thought about it, so he sighed and shook his head. “We’ll talk about it another time,” he muttered and climbed the steps up to the house.

 

Harry tapped the front door with his wand and there was a series of sounds, clicking, clunking, and a chain clattering before the door opened and all four of them could enter the house. Hermione was the last in and she shut the door behind her, and as she did, the gas lights along the wall of the hallway slowly flickered on revealing the dusty, old home for what it was. Draco wrinkled his nose as he looked around, spotting a heavy curtain draped on the wall and he wondered what it concealed.

 

“Do you think someone’s been here already?” Hermione asked quietly, pointing at what looked to be an umbrella stand halfway up the hallway that was laying on the floor instead of standing up.

 

“That might have happened when everyone left,” Ron said, his voice just as quiet. Draco was, surprisingly for once, on his side. He’d rather assume that there hadn’t been any people in the house that weren’t supposed to be there...or still were there.

 

Hermione hesitantly raised her wand. “Homenum revelio,” she whispered, and nothing happened. Draco, Harry and Ron looked at her curiously, wondering what spell she had just cast as it hadn’t seemed to have done anything. “There’s no one here,” she said after a few seconds. “The spell is meant to reveal human presence… There’s none here except for us.”

 

Harry looked back down the hallway. “Where’s the jinxes they put up against Snape?”

 

“They might only activate if he’s the one that comes here,” Ron added. Despite that being a possibility, all four of them stayed close to the door, not wanting to willingly move an inch. It had been maybe a minute or so before Harry sighed and took one step forward.

 

“ _ Severus Snape _ ?” The voice of Mad-Eye Moody whispered from the dark end of the hallway, and Harry jumped back to the doormat, while Draco stepped in front of Hermione while she gripped his hand tightly.

  
“We aren’t Snape!” Harry shouted.

 

Draco felt a strange feeling, like cold air being washed over all four of them, and then something terrible happened inside his mouth; it felt like his tongue had curled backwards on itself towards its throat, and he lifted his hand up to his mouth but before he could do anything, his tongue unravelled. He looked to see if the other three had experienced the same thing, and by the looks of Ron retching, Harry clasping his hand over his throat, and Hermione’s widened eyes, he could agree that they had.

 

“That would have been the Tongue Tying curse that Mad-Eye set up to get Snape,” Hermione said cautiously.

 

Thinking that the curse had been the only trap set up, Harry had taken another step forward but before the rest of them could too, a great shadowy figure rose out from the carpet. It was tall, dust-coloured and was racing quickly towards them. Draco kept his stance in front of Hermione who screamed loudly, and he gripped his wand tight. Someone else had started screaming from down the hall where the large curtains had been ripped back. The dusty figure’s hair and beard fell to its waist, and its face horribly fleshless with empty eye sockets.

 

Dumbledore.

 

“It wasn’t us!” Harry shouted quickly, still with his wand raised. “No! We didn’t kill you!” It seemed like that had been the right thing to say, as the figure disappeared, exploding in a cloud of dust, leaving the four of them coughing and spluttering, heads reeling over what had just occurred. “It’s alr-right,” he managed to say, and looked back at Draco, Hermione and Ron.

 

“ _ Mudblood! Filthy creatures! Shame and taint on the house of my father’s! Blood traitor! _ ” The loud shouting voice kept booming through the hall, and Draco only just realised that whatever it was near the curtains had been shouting since Mad-Eye’s first curse had first been activated.

 

“What the fuck is that?!” Draco shouted, demanding to know. His anger was rising quickly. Seeing the disfigured illusion of Dumbledore’s corpse had twisted a part of him inside, spiking a series of emotions and memories he’d tried to keep firmly sealed in a box in his mind over the last two months. With the woman’s voice shouting out, clearly calling Hermione out on her blood-status now, his temper was beginning to head in a direction it shouldn’t.

 

“Shut up!” Harry yelled, pointing his wand down the hall where there was a bang and a burst of red sparks, and the curtains swung shut once more, and the yelling stopped.

 

Draco turned to Hermione properly and saw how pale she looked. “Hermione?” he said quietly and placed his hands on her arms. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

 

She had just opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Ron. “Of course she’s not alright,” he snapped, and Draco’s eyes darted down to see how tightly the redhead’s fingers were wrapped around his wand. “None of us know what the hell has happened in the past hour and why the fuck it happened in the first place!” His voice started to rise in volume, and his glare was reserved only for Draco. “It’s convenient that ever since  _ you’ve _ joined the Order, everythi--”

 

“ _ Don’t _ finish that sentence, Ron!” Hermione shouted and stood between the boys. She pushed her hands against both of their chests, as Ron had started to move closer to Draco who had squared his shoulders; thankfully, the both of them had kept their wands down. 

 

“He doesn’t need too,” Draco growled, his voice low and clipped. “I thought after signing up to help Potter and the rest of the Order, he’d have the fucking  _ decency  _ to know I’m not on that side anymore!”

 

“ _ Two _ attacks!” Ron held up two fingers and stepped forward, ignoring Hermione trying to push him back again. “ _ Two _ since you arrived with your mummy to hold your hand--”

 

“Enough!” Hermione yelled loudly when Draco moved forward too and she was practically squished between the both of them. She held her wand up and out shot a spark of blue, shocking the both of them into stepping back. “Why are you even saying these things Ron?!” she stared at him, her jaw clenched. “He’s proved himself worthy of being here just as much as his mum has, as I have, as  _ you _ \--”

 

“Don’t put me in the same boat as him,” Ron scoffed and Harry put his hand on his best friend’s shoulder and made him step back.

 

“Ron, come on…”

 

“Fuck you, Weasley,” Draco snarled and was the first of the four of them to move away from the front door. Despite not knowing anything about the house, he wanted to put enough distance between him and the redhead as possible, and he headed straight up the set of stairs and kept going up the different flights until he reached the top of the house. There were only two doors and he chose the first to push open. He’d hardly taken notice of the rest of the house as he’d walked through it to get there, but scoffed when his eyes fell on the faded gold nameplate on the door. Not even the doors in Malfoy Manor had that feature.

 

He grasped the door handle and twisted it, opening the door to reveal a rundown room of green and silver colours. He glanced at the name tag before he walked in to look around properly, not making the connection of what was written on the plate.

 

_ Do not enter without the express permission of Regulus Arcturus Black. _

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

The sound of Draco’s footsteps going up the old stairs, sounded through the entrance hallway where the three remaining teenagers hadn’t moved. Hermione looked away from the staircase to glare up at Ron once again. “Did you  _ enjoy _ that?” she spat, and Ron scoffed and turned away from them and stormed towards the kitchen. “Don’t walk away from me!” she shouted, shaking from her anger.

 

Harry reached out and placed his hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “Hermione, yelling won’t do anything,” he murmured and they both watched Ron push open the door into the kitchen and disappear from view. “He’s just worried about his family.”

 

“That’s no excuse to say what he just did,” Hermione snapped and shrugged Harry’s hand off of her shoulder. “I’m worried too, so are you, and so is Draco! His mother isn’t supposed to be anywhere away from Andromeda’s house! What if her disguise wore off and one of the Death Eater’s recognised her?”

 

“Keep your voice down,” Harry said quickly and his eyes darted up. “I bet he’s already thinking that but he doesn’t need to hear  _ you  _ saying it too.” Her mouth snapped shut and her shoulders sagged as she looked up, wondering where Draco had decided to hole himself up. She knew that’s what he’d done; whenever he was angry or upset, he always wanted to escape the situation.

 

Harry took one step away from her and headed down the hall, looking over his shoulder at her. She sighed and walked with him, heading to the kitchen too. She wasn’t about to apologise to Ron, for she had nothing to apologise for, but she knew jumping down his throat again wouldn’t do any of them any good. Just as she and Harry walked over the threshold of the kitchen, Harry’s step faltered and he stumbled, falling down to his knees, clutching his head with a moan of pain. “Harry! What is it?” She sunk to her knees beside him, holding his shoulders.

 

“Can you see him?!” Ron demanded, coming to stand in front of them. “Where is he? Is he at The Burrow?!”

 

Harry was panting and screwed his eyes shut before taking Hermione’s arm to help him stand up again. “He’s angry. Really angry about something,” he said. “I didn’t see anything…” He raised his hand and rubbed his forehead, wincing.

 

“Your scar, again?” Hermione said and stared at him. “Harry, you said that the connection was closed!”

 

“It is!” Harry snapped. “Well… It was… It just happens when he feels something really strongly.”

 

“Dumbledore wanted you to have that connection closed!” Hermione sighed. “You’re meant to be practicing Occlu--”

  
“Yeah, I remember,” Harry cut her off.

 

She opened her mouth to tell him to stop snapping, but stopped when a flash of silvery light flew through from the hallway to hover in front of them where it slowly changed shape into a weasel which spoke in the voice of Arthur Weasley. “ _ Family’s safe. Don’t reply. We’re being watched. _ ”

 

The three of them stood slack-jawed, staring where the Patronus faded into nothing, and Ron let out a shaky laugh. “They’re okay,” he muttered to himself. Hermione felt worried though… ‘ _ Family’s _ safe’, Arthur had said.  _ Family _ didn’t include Andromeda or Ted, who deserved to be safe and out of harm’s way, for all the good they had done since Hermione and Draco had been thrust into their care.  _ Family _ didn’t mean Narcissa who’d been disguised under Polyjuice Potion just as Draco and Harry had been. And it didn’t include Remus and Tonks either, who’d been so happy together during what was meant to be such a joyous occasion. “Harry, Hermione, I’m sorry…” Ron turned to them, the tips of his ears reddening.

 

“It’s fine,” Harry shrugged it off. “They’re your family, I’d be worried too. I  _ was _ worried too.”

 

Ron’s eyes met Hermione’s, but she couldn’t find it in her to let what Ron had said, be excused so easily. What he’d said to Draco was completely uncalled for, and it hurt to see him accused so easily after everything he had done to prove his allegiance to the Order and nothing else. The years of knowing Ron had taught her that his anger and worry often brought out sharp, cruel words that he didn’t truly mean. It didn’t make it any easier to forgive him, especially because he probably was ignorant to the fact of how much his words would have affected Draco.

 

“I’m going to go find Draco,” she said quietly, and placed her beaded bag on the table. “Everything’s in there,” she told the boys. “You should set up sleeping bags and the like in the drawing room, and I’ll be back down...later,” she sighed. Neither Harry or Ron said a word to her as she left the kitchen to climb the stairs.

 

It took her five minutes to look into every room in Grimmauld Place on each floor, her wand out in front of her. Even though she’d cast a spell when they’d arrived that revealed there was no one else in the house, there was still the prickling feeling of fear and doubt every time she peeked into a room to see if Draco was there. She reached the staircase that she knew led up to Sirius and his brother’s old rooms and knew that Draco was bound to be up there. She climbed slowly but heavy footed, to let him know that she was coming. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him by arriving completely unannounced when he was angered and upset, and in an unfamiliar place to top it all off. After looking into Sirius’s room and finding it empty, she opened the next door and found who she was looking for.

 

“No-one really thinks it was your fault,” she said softly. He didn’t turn from where he was seated on the bed, staring out the small, grimy window. “Ron just...says a lot of things when he’s stressed. Things he doesn’t mean,” she continued and walked into the room and stood by the bed. She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder and felt him tense up. “He’s an arse, really.”

 

“You’ve got that right,” Draco muttered, which made her give a small smile, and she sat down on the old mattress next to him.

 

“I know it’s hard to believe that Ron, and even Remus, didn’t mean what they said, but you can believe me, right?” she said to him and slid her hand down to his, and she was glad when he spread his fingers to allow hers through, and then held her hand tightly.

 

“What people say in anger is what they’ve been wanting to say for a long time,” he said.

 

She shook her head. “Not always… You said plenty of things to me this past year when you were angry -- things you didn’t mean. Just like I said to you. We didn’t mean it though. Did we?” He stayed still and didn’t look at her, and she knew she was right. “Stress does crazy things to people,” she told him. “It makes people say crazy things, just like Ron did now, or like Remus did… But  _ you _ and I, and  _ everyone _ else in the Order know that you and your mum are innocent, Draco.”

 

He shrugged his shoulder. “I just don’t know how much more I have to prove to everyone,” he said, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Isn’t coming with you after the Tower, enough? Our whole relationship?  _ This _ ?” he asked, pulling back the sleeve on his left arm, revealing the healing scar that cut right through his Dark Mark. “I got this scar from trying to save someone from the Order,” he said, looking at Hermione.

 

“I know you did, Draco,” she said softly, looking back at him. “Everyone knows what you did to try and save Mad-Eye.”

 

He clenched his jaw and looked back down at his arm. “I...I think I know what the curse was,” he said. “Well… Not exactly… What if it wasn’t actually the curse that did the damage?”

 

Hermione furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

 

“What if it was the curse I sent back at the Death Eater?” he asked. “My wand was in my left hand, and I’m sure the curse didn’t hit me before I managed to curse him back.”

 

She looked back down at his arm, trying to piece the puzzle together. “You think it was your Mark?” she asked.

 

“I’m not saying it was, or it wasn’t. And I hardly remember anything of what happened, but I’ve been thinking about it more and more. The Mark was given to me through Dark Magic which I’m sure no-one but...but  _ him _ knows about. What if it was reacting, or something?”

 

“Reacting to you trying to curse who was meant to be your accomplice?”

 

He nodded once and then tugged his sleeve down. “It’s a horrible enough idea that he would think of,” he said. “He wouldn’t have expected his followers to turn on each other, but if they did, then they’d be the traitors, and some sort of curse to prove that would be the way to go, right?”

 

“I think you’re right, Draco,” she agreed, and placed her hand on his now-covered forearm, and rubbed her thumb along where the skin was slightly raised from scarring. “But you’re not a traitor,” she reminded him, moving closer, “You’re someone who made the right choice. You’re a good man,” she softly pressed her lips to his cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

 

He wrapped his arm around her waist and turned his head to kiss her forehead. “I love you,” he said quietly, in almost a whisper.

 

“I love you too, you know that,” she said and smiled before she stood up, still holding onto his hand. “Harry and Ron are setting up sleeping bags in the drawing room,” she told him. “And I don’t know about you, but I don’t really fancy sleeping here,” she gestured towards the bed and laughed softly. “It hasn’t been slept in for about eighteen years, and I don’t want us to be the first people to do so.”

 

“Good point,” he said and laughed quietly as he stood up too. “So whose bedroom is this?” he asked, looking around at the decorations that were  _ clearly _ Slytherin-inspired.

  
“Sirius’s brother’s, I’m assuming,” Hermione said and walked to the door and looked up at the nameplate. “Regulus Arcturus Black,” she read, her fingers skimming across the engraved letters. Her eyes narrowed as something told her this was important. She stayed looking at the nameplate even when Draco walked past her and stood out in the hallway.

 

“Are we going downstairs?” he asked after they’d been in silence for quite a while.

 

“Wait…” she breathed, her fingers still running over the name.  _ Regulus… Arcturus… Black… _ R.A.B… “ _ R.A.B! _ ” she exclaimed and spun around with wide eyes. “Draco, it’s the initials that were in the locket!” She ran to the bannister and looked down. “Harry, Ron! We found something!”

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

The plan to go to sleep had been postponed for another hour since Hermione, Draco, Harry and Ron spent most of that time tearing apart Regulus’s room to try and find the real locket. When Hermione had first called the boys up to show them the find, Harry had then told them all about how Regulus had been a Death Eater.  _ Had _ obviously being the key word.

 

Every drawer, cabinet and cupboard had been opened in the room as the four of them tore through the items of the youngest Black brother’s room. They all came up short though; the only thing they’d found being a disgusting amount of mothballs and doxy eggs. Harry had been the first to crack in anger, slamming a drawer shut before storming out of the room, followed by Ron who said he would check if he was okay.

 

Hermione and Draco had both agreed that waiting until the next day to resume their hunt would be for the best. It was hard to believe that at the start of the day, they had all been getting ready for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, unaware of what the night would bring. Now, the four of them were in the drawing room, shaking out the sleeping bags that Hermione had packed in her beaded bag. They had grimaced at the dusty, stagnant smell from them all, but after a quick Scourgify spell courtesy of Hermione, and the urge to sleep rising, the four of them had all laid down ready to sleep.

 

The boys had told Hermione to sleep on the couch while they found spots on the floor to lay on. Draco had held her hand that hung off the sofa, and knew when she had fallen asleep as her fingers grew slack in his. He wasn’t sure how he’d be able to sleep; he could hear Ron snoring, and he lifted his head up slightly to look. The redhead had placed his sleeping bag a few metres away from the couch, whereas Harry had set his up nearer the door, and from what Draco could see, he wasn’t moving so he presumed him to be asleep.

 

He lifted up on his elbow a bit more and looked at Hermione. Her forehead was furrowed as she slept, but when he gently pressed the tip of his thumb between her eyebrows, she relaxed and let out a soft sigh. It made one corner of his mouth curl up into a small smile, and he lay back down, attempting to get as comfortable as possible on the old wooden floor -- the sleeping bag didn’t provide much in the way of comfort. He slipped his hand back into hers and tried to clear his mind to sleep.

 

It was a difficult task. Some nights he was blessed with the fact that his mind was so clear it was easy to fall asleep, sometimes he was simply too exhausted to think, and on the rare occasion from when he and Hermione had been staying at Andromeda’s, a choice activity before sleep usually left him too physically tired to do anything but sleep. But now in the old musty home of his actual ancestors, it was hard to calm his thoughts down. He worried severely for his mother and if she had gotten away from the wedding in time -- he hoped that the Polyjuice hadn’t worn out by the time the Death Eaters had apparated in. He also worried for Andromeda and Ted who were his new family now. He hoped wherever they were, they were safe, and they’d managed to find his mother and keep her safe.

 

He thought about the fight he and Ron had had when they’d first arrived, and just the memory of it was enough to get him feeling angry again. He was so _ frustrated _ , he didn’t know what to do! How was he meant to convince everyone in the Order that he was there for good, and there to  _ help _ , when people like Lupin and Ron set him back one hundred paces by accusing him of being the cause behind the two attacks that had happened so far.

 

Draco sighed and rubbed his thumb along the back of Hermione’s hand. At least she was there… He hated that so far she’d been the one to defend him, rather than him defending himself, but maybe it was a good thing. Everyone listened to Hermione. He just hoped that somehow, he’d be trusted just as much as she was in the Order.

 

He wasn’t sure how long it took before his thoughts slowed down enough that he finally did sleep, and his hand slipped from Hermione’s and hit the floor with a soft thud.

 

* * *

**Hermione**

 

The next morning hadn’t produced any good news. After Hermione had woken up Draco, Ron and Harry, and they’d all freshened up as best they could and changed out of their pyjamas, they went back to scouring the house in search of the real locket.

 

It had only been an hour into their search when Hermione stood up straight from where she was bent over looking inside a cupboard, eyes going slightly out of focus as she let out a groan.

 

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked, jumping off a chair he’d been using to look inside some of the taller cabinets in the room.

 

“The locket…” she whispered. “Last year, in the drawing room...don’t you remember? Nobody could open it and we…”

 

Draco was looking around, not knowing what was going on, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. Her hope had sunk down to nothing, and Harry let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. “We all handled the thing too,” he said bitterly and dropped his hand, curling his fingers into a fist.

 

“But Kreacher nicked loads of stuff from us, didn’t he?” Ron chimed in. “He kept taking stuff to that dump he has in the kitchen cupboard!”

 

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “You’re right, Ron!” she exclaimed, and they left the bedroom they were in and started to run down the stairs. The thudding of their feet on the steps caused the curtains to rip back from Mrs Black’s painting, and the nasty old woman started shouting all about the filth that had been let into her home. Hermione kept running to the kitchen and came to a stop outside the small cupboard that Kreacher had designated to be his living space. The sound of Sirius’s mother stopped too, and Draco walked into the kitchen last with his wand out. His jaw was clenched tightly and he had a dash of red on his cheeks and a glint in his eyes; Hermione could tell how much he hated the portrait, and reminded herself to thank him for being the one to shut the sad old witch up.

 

They came up empty handed after rifling through Kreacher’s cupboard, but Harry had remedied the situation easily by summoning the elf to them. It had taken a lot of persuasion from Harry to get the elf to tell them who had taken the locket (Harry let out a low, angered noise and clenched his fists upon hearing that it had been Mundungus Fletcher to take the heirloom). Past that, it had taken more orders for Kreacher to spill the secrets on how exactly the locket had found its way into the Black family home in the first place. They all listened with wide eyes, as Kreacher recounted the tale of how Regulus had been inducted as a Death Eater, and had given the elf to Voldemort for him to use for an “honourable” task. Hermione’s fingers came up to cover her mouth after she gasped, hearing of how Voldemort had used Kreacher to drink the potion in the cave, before sailing off on the boat laughing.

 

Hermione caught Draco’s eye as they listened to Kreacher tell them of how soon after, Regulus had demanded to be taken back to the cave, and had been the one to drink the potion himself, ordering Kreacher to swap the lockets and then leave the cave. All four of them listened to the elf weep as he told his story, and they all learnt of Regulus’s own form of redemption that no living thing except Kreacher had known about. She watched Draco, who was pale in the face as he listened to the story of a Death Eater who had turned his back on Voldemort. She was glad he now knew that he wasn’t the only one to leave the Dark in favour of the Light.

 

It had taken them all a few minutes to sober up after learning all about the last moments of Regulus Black’s life. Kreacher had stayed curled in a ball, weeping into his arms, and Hermione had tried to reach out and comfort him but had quickly been rejected. Harry had then quickly taken the initiative to make a move, and asked Kreacher to find Mundungus Fletcher and to bring him straight to Grimmauld Place.

 

After Kreacher had disapparated with a crack, they all stood in silence. “Is Kreacher really gonna find him, then?” Ron asked, breaking the quiet.

 

“Potter has a habit of making his elves tail people,” Draco was the one to answer, and he looked up to Harry, and then glanced at Hermione who gave a small smile, despite the circumstances. “The elf will find Fletcher.”

 

Harry looked sheepish. “I just wanted to know what you were doing,” he admitted to Draco, referring back to the time he’d asked both Kreacher and Dobby to follow Draco and find out what he’d been doing in school. While Harry had been growing gradually more obsessed in finding out what Draco was getting up to, it had caused a huge challenge for Hermione and Draco to communicate and see each other outside of classes. It wasn’t a time she looked back fondly on.

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s just a good thing Hermione told me what was going on, otherwise you  _ would _ have found out. You don’t really make the greatest detective, Potter.” Hermione laughed and sunk down into one of of the dining room chairs and placed her face in her hands.

 

What the  _ hell _ was their lives going to be like now?

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

Draco had been the first one to spot the two cloaked men who stood across the street from them. He’d called everyone to the window, and despite them all knowing that the men couldn’t actually see 12 Grimmauld Place, they’d all ducked down and peered out for only a few seconds at a time. “They’re Death Eaters,” Draco came to the conclusion easily.

 

“You don’t think they know we’re in here, right?” Ron asked hesitantly. 

 

“No,” Hermione shook her head. “Otherwise Snape would have been sent in. I think he’s been and had his tongue tied from Moody’s curse.”

 

“They might be waiting to see if we turn up here,” Harry added.

 

“Most likely,” Hermione nodded. ”They know you own the house, Harry,” she said, and she saw the look on all the boys’ faces that made her roll her eyes and continue. “Wizarding wills are examined by the Ministry. They’ll know you have the house.”

 

For the next three days, every time any of them would look out the drawing room window, they saw the two Death Eaters standing in the exact same spot. There had been no word from anyone in the Order since Mister Weasley’s Patronus had arrived the night of the attack on the wedding, and tensions were growing high just as quickly as patience was growing thin.

 

Draco had been in the middle of an argument with Ron after the redhead had been incessantly clicking his Deluminator on and off the entire day, driving him to near insanity. Hermione sat on the couch, gritting her teeth as she tried to read her book; he could tell the continuous playing with the Deluminator had gotten on her nerves just as much, but she wasn’t joining in on their argument. Their yells had been growing louder and Draco was ready to leave the room after a quick stinging hex, maybe, until they all stopped and held their breath when they heard something… 

 

“ _ Severus Snape _ ?” the booming voice of Mad-Eye sounded from downstairs. Hermione sprung to her feet and ran out onto the landing where Harry had left only seconds before. Draco and Ron had followed her, and they all looked down into the entrance hallway to find none other than Remus Lupin standing by the door with Harry standing a few feet in front of him with his wand outstretched. Moody’s jinx had been broken, but Harry obviously wasn’t convinced of the legitimacy of the man standing at the door, as he shouted at him not to move.

 

“I’m Remus John Lupin, a werewolf sometimes known as Moody. I helped create the Marauder’s Map, and am married to Nymphadora who likes to be known as Tonks. I helped you produce a Patronus which takes the form of a stag,” Remus said, loud enough for Hermione, Draco and Ron to hear, who he had obviously spotted after a quick glance around.

 

Harry lowered his wand, and Hermione led the way for Draco and Ron down the stairs, and all five of them entered the kitchen and seated themselves around the table. Draco was stiff and tense as he sat beside Hermione, staring at the man who had accused him so cruelly of being the reason for the return of Harry to the Burrow to be so disastrous. She reached out and rest her hand on Draco’s thigh and looked at him. “ _ It’s okay _ ,” she mouthed silently and he gave one terse nod.

 

Remus and Harry started to talk at once, with Ron joining in on the occasion. They filled the wizard in on everything that had happened since the moment they’d left the wedding, to realising the Death Eaters were keeping watch outside the house, answering his questions whenever they arose. When they rounded back to the topic of the wedding, Remus looked away from Harry and Ron, and straight at Draco. “Your mother is safe,” he informed and Draco’s shoulders sagged in relief as he audibly sighed. “I apparated her out as soon as I knew what was happening, but… When we took her back to Andromeda and Ted’s, we found out the Death Eaters had been.” Everyone held their breath, and Hermione’s fingers dug into Draco’s thigh just as his hand grabbed her arm tightly. “They’re fine,” Remus added quickly. “They, uh… They’d been tortured. To try and find out where Harry had gone and if they were hiding you lot. They didn’t let up though, the Death Eater’s left eventually.”

 

“They’ve  _ what _ ?!” Draco demanded to know, and he would have risen from his chair had Hermione’s grip not tightened exponentially on his leg. “Are you sure they’re alright? Why wasn’t there any aurors there with them? They should have been protected!”

 

“I don’t know the answer to your questions, Draco, I’m sorry,” Remus apologised and Draco was rather taken aback. It was only then he truly saw the exhaustion on his ex-Professor’s face. He looked much worse than when he’d seen him at the wedding, and it had only been a few days. “I can promise you that they’re fine now. They’ve been looked after by Tonks--” he seemed to wince when he said her name, “--and they weren’t under the Cruciatus Curse for very long.”

 

Although the news still left Draco reeling and in shock, he knew there would be no use in dwelling in it. Later, he’d think about just how strong his urge to protect Andromeda and Ted were after what Lupin had told them -- his aunt and uncle were completely family to him now. He had to make sure they were safe, but leaving Hermione, Harry and Ron was not an option any longer.

 

“I also should let you know…” Lupin said, still looking at Draco. “The safe-house where your father was being kept under constant supervision… There was an attack there. He and two other Death Eaters escaped.” Draco’s heart sunk to his stomach. That was the moment, he knew, that there was zero hope of his father ever redeeming himself, both to the order, and to him and his mother. He felt Hermione’s hand slip into his, and he held it tightly. He couldn’t let this affect him… He couldn’t let his father break him...

 

“Harry,” Remus started once more, breaking the quiet that had come over them all. “The Order is under the impression that you have a mission left to you by Dumbledore.”

 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Harry replied and glanced over at Hermione, Ron and Draco. “They’re in on it too and are coming with me.”

 

There was another break of silence until Remus sat up straighter and looked Harry in the eye. “Can you tell me what this mission is?” he asked. Draco raised his eyebrows at the question. He had a feeling the adults in the Order all knew something was going on with Harry; hell, Molly Weasley had been trying to convince them all to keep things normal, and she hadn’t even known they were all leaving for this.

 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Harry said. “If Dumbledore didn’t tell you then I can’t either.”

 

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Remus said, more of a mutter to himself as he looked at the table. “But I can be of use to you,” he said, looking at all of them before back at Harry. “You know what I am and what I can do. I can be protection for you all, you wouldn’t need to tell me the specifics of the mission you were left.”

 

Draco glanced at Hermione then and saw her look of confusion, brows pulled together as she stared at the older wizard. Draco was confused too… How could he willingly leave his wife behind in order to do this… It seemed that Hermione had had the same concerns. “But what about Tonks?” she asked. 

 

“What about her?” Remus replied, which made Draco grit his teeth.  _ What kind of a way to talk about your wife is that? _ He thought and glared at Lupin.

 

“You’re married!” Hermione exclaimed.

 

“What’s she going to think if you just suddenly leave her and start running around with us for who bloody knows how long?” Ron chimed in.

 

“She’s going to be safe,” Remus said, but there was something about the way he spoke that Draco didn’t like at all. He didn’t sound concerned or kind in any way -- he sounded cold.

 

It came as no surprise to Draco when Hermione next spoke, that she didn’t voice her anger, but rather, her concern. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “Between you and Tonks?”

 

“It’s fine,” he answered briskly and looked away from all of them. “She’s going to have a baby.”

 

Hermione gasped, Ron grinned and Harry smiled too, and all of them offered their congratulations, except Draco. He could see the look on Remus’s face was not that of a happy father-to-be. Draco’s anger only increased when Lupin changed the subject immediately.

 

“So are you going to accept my offer or not? Will four become five? Dumbledore wouldn’t have said no, he made me your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, after all, I can offer you the protection that no one else in the Order could.”

 

“What?” Hermione whispered quietly, but only Draco heard, and he turned his head to look at her and saw her slightly slack-jawed with her eyes wide as she stared at Remus.

 

“Just so that we’re all clear here,” Harry spoke, and Draco knew that tone as it was one that he himself used very often -- disguised anger. “You want to leave Tonks at her parents’ place and come with us?”

 

“She’s going to be safe there,” Remus replied. “I’m sure James would have wanted me to stick with you.”

 

“No, actually, I don’t think he would have,” Harry said slowly. “I think he’d have found it much better if you stuck with your own kid,” he snapped. Of all the responses Harry could have said, Draco didn’t think any of them would have guessed he would have said that.

 

Lupin went pale, and stood up from his chair. “You don’t understand,” he shook his head.

 

“Then explain it to us!” Draco snarled, unable to keep his mouth shut. That was  _ his _ cousin Lupin was planning on leaving! And while he didn’t know her that well, or was that close to her, he was a decent enough human being to know that you shouldn’t  _ leave your pregnant wife _ to go risking your life so easily.

 

“I made a mistake when I married Tonks,” Remus said, looking at them all. “It was against my judgement to do it…” 

 

“So your answer is to just dump her and run away with us?” Harry argued, and it was only then that Draco understood why Harry had got so defensive and angry so quickly… Harry  _ knew _ what it was like to grow up without parents who didn’t have a choice -- Lupin had a choice. “What kind of a man are you?!” Harry raised his voice.

 

“Don’t you understand?” Lupin shouted back. “I’m not a man in the first place! I’m a werewolf! Don’t you realise what I’ve done to my unborn child? Why is anyone happy over it?! I could have given this affliction to my child, he’d be a thousand times better off not having a father rather than having one he will always be ashamed of!”

 

“Remus, don’t say that!” Hermione said, her voice a lot quieter than everyone else’s. “You know as well as I do that you can’t pass it on to your child… How could  _ any _ child be ashamed of you?”

 

“I don’t know, Hermione,” Harry snapped and then glared at Lupin, “I’d be pretty ashamed of him. My dad  _ died _ trying to protect me and my mum! And you want to go running off on an adventure with us?!”

 

“Don’t imply that, Harry,” Remus said, his voice low. “I don’t want to do this for glory or anything of the sort!”

 

“You just want to be a daredevil, don’t you? Want to step into Sirius’s shoes! You, the man that taught me so much, the man that taught me how to  _ fight off _ Dementors -- a coward!”

 

There wasn’t enough time for any of them to react, as Remus had drawn his wand so quickly, and the next second there was a loud noise and Harry had been thrown across the room into the cabinets that lined the wall. Draco reached for his wand just as Ron did, but Lupin was already gone.

 

“Remus!” Hermione called after him and ran out of the kitchen to follow him, but they all heard the front door slam, and her calling stop.

 

Ron rushed over to Harry and helped him up on his feet, and Draco stayed where he was, his wand hanging from his fingers. “Maybe I shouldn’t have called him a coward,” Harry said, groaning as he came to his feet, rubbing the back of his head.

 

“No, you were right,” Draco said, and walked over to him and Ron. “He is.”

 

“Parents shouldn’t leave their kids unless--unless they have to,” he said, sighing in defeat, and Ron put his hand on his shoulder.

 

“Don’t expect me to say this often, Potter,” Draco said, “But I agree with you. One hundred fucking-percent.”


	42. Break-in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me, and thanks to the wonderful oeuvre24 for beta-ing! So from here on out (after this chapter), events will differ slightly from the book. We are keeping necessary events obviously, and some not so necessary ones, but there are quite a few differences coming. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the love, kudos and comments! We're constantly blown away by the attention this fic has received and the amount of people that love it. Happy reading and let us know what you think!

Hermione returned to the kitchen to find the three boys sitting at the kitchen table. Draco sat across from Harry and Ron, not looking at either of them. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel slightly nauseous after that whole ordeal, especially with the news of Ted, Andromeda, Narcissa and Lucius. Andromeda and Ted had become something of parental figures to her while she and Draco had stayed with them, considering they were there for her after own parents were sent away to Australia. While Hermione wasn’t as close with Narcissa, the two had come to an understanding, and she  _ was _ Draco’s mother after all. And Lucius, well...mustering up sympathy for him was difficult for her. She hoped that he hadn’t been killed or seriously injured, but mostly, she felt sorry for Draco when it came to his father.

 

Harry was absorbed in the copy of the  _ Daily Prophet  _ that Remus had left behind, while Ron looked lost in his thoughts. She sat down next to Draco, slipping her hand onto his knee, giving it a squeeze. “We don’t have to stay here,” she said quietly, leaning towards him so their sides pressed together. “We can go upstairs or to the drawing room.” 

 

“It’s fine,” he said dully. “My mum, Andromeda and Ted are all safe. They’re alive. That’s all that matters.” 

 

“Draco,” she said, her voice a mix of shock and reproach. She understood that Draco was angry with Lucius -- resentful towards him -- but he was still his father. “He could be dead or--or what if he got taken back to Voldemort? Something bad could have happened to him, Draco.” She kept her voice even and soft as she spoke. 

 

“He didn’t show much regard for my well-being when he chose to reject the Order’s help. If my dad’s back with  _ him,  _ he’ll have gotten exactly what he wanted in the first place,” Draco retorted; she could see his anger rising. “And if he’s dead, well -- I don’t have to worry about him leaving me again do I?”

 

“Draco...” she said sadly, not having the heart to scold him for his harsh thoughts. 

 

At that moment, Harry set down the newspaper. His movement seemed to pull Ron from his thoughts as well, and it was like the two of them had just realised that Hermione and Draco were there. Harry opened his mouth to speak, his finger already pointing at a paragraph on the newspaper laid out in front of him, when a loud crack echoed throughout the kitchen. 

 

The four of them whirled around wildly, four chairs scraping back as they rose, wands at the ready. At the opposite end of the kitchen stood Mundungus Fletcher with a proud looking Kreacher at his side. “Kreacher has done it,” he croaked gleefully. “Kreacher found the thief, sir!” 

 

Hermione was the quickest of them all. The moment she’d heard the crack, she’d held her wand out, held firmly in her hand. 

 

“Expelliarmus!” she said, aiming her wand at Mundungus before he could even think about reaching for his wand. His wand soared towards her in the air, and she caught it easily. Hermione caught Draco smiling at her out of the corner of her eye. Her lips pulled upwards, despite the current situation they were in. 

 

Now realising he’d lost his wand and stood four to one, Mundungus bolted towards the stairs. Both Draco and Ron followed after him. Draco shouted “ _Stupefy_!” right before Ron tackled Mundungus to the ground. 

 

“Close one there, Malfoy,” grunted Ron as he stood up from the hard stone floor, rubbing his left shoulder. 

 

“Sorry about that,” he said, walking closer to Mundungus. “Didn’t realise you were coming just then.” With a flick of his wand, ropes flew out the tip and bound themselves around Mundungus. “Help me get him into a chair?” 

 

Together, Draco and Ron lifted a stunned Mundungus into a chair before Draco binded him with more ropes. He moved his wand one more time, returning Mundungus to his conscious state. It took the older, run-down man a moment to realise where he was. The second he registered their faces, and Kreacher now standing behind Harry and Draco, he wriggled fiercely in the confines of his binds.  “What the hell are you playin’ at?!” he roared, his eyes as wild as his hair. “What’s this elf been doin’ followin’ me-- Let me go, dammit or I swear I’ll--”

 

“Shut it,” Harry snapped, his voice far louder than Mundungus’. Hermione jumped, even Draco flinched as his voice echoed off the walls just as the crack of Kreacher’s arrival had mere minutes ago. “I don’t think you’re any position to threaten anyone.” 

 

The three of them watched, breaths held and bodies tense as Harry strode toward Mundungus, his wand pointed squarely between his eyes. Mundungus stopped moving and eyed the wand nervously. Hermione could see the thin sheen of sweat on the man’s filthy forehead. 

 

From behind Draco, Kreacher spoke. “The thief is tricky to catch, master,” he said, his voice hoarse and brittle. “Kreacher is sorry for the delay of his delivery. Kreacher had many troubles, but Kreacher found Mundungus nonetheless.” 

 

Harry stopped and turned slowly to face the elf. He stared down kindly at Kreacher, who was gripping Draco’s trousers. “Thank you Kreacher,” he said gently. “You did great.” 

 

Kreacher bowed as Harry turned around to face Mundungus again. “I’ve got questions, Mundungus, and we can either do this the easy way or the hard way,” Harry growled, getting close to Mundungus’ face. 

 

Hermione gasped. “Harry!” she scolded, furrowing her brows.  _ We don’t have Veritaserum,  _ she thought to herself. She hadn’t packed it, as they’d had no need for it; at least no need that she had foreseen. There were only three reasons she could think of, that would explain why Harry had said that: Either he was bluffing, trying to scare Mundungus into spitting out the truth right then (and Merlin she hoped that was the idea); Harry was under the impression she  _ did  _ have a stock of veritaserum; or he wasn’t talking about a truth potion at all…

 

“‘Old on a minute,” Mundungus said slowly, squinting at Draco. “You’s the Malfoy’s son, aren’t you? What the bloody hell are you doing with these three?” he let out a nervous chuckle as he spoke, glancing at the three of them, waiting for them to laugh too. 

 

“That’s none of your business,” Harry said coolly. “I’m not wasting any more time. Where is the locket?” 

 

“Now listen,” Mundungus said pleadingly, his gaze once again focused on Harry’s wand between his eyes. “Sirius never did care about all this junk--”

 

Suddenly, they heard a loud screech, scuttling footsteps, and next thing they knew Kreacher was lunging himself onto Mundungus, a copper saucepan aimed at his face. Hermione shouted, “Kreacher, no!” while Harry remained frozen with shock, not fully realising what was happening. The pan came down hard on Mundungus’ head, earning a cry of pain from the thief. 

 

“Stop it!” Mundungus shouted as Kreacher continued to swing the pan at him, trying to hit every inch of him he could reach. “Make him stop!” 

 

“Kreacher, stop!” Draco shouted above the commotion. To their astonishment, Kreacher stopped. The little elf’s chest was heaving as he stood on Mundungus’ lap, the pan inches from his skull. 

 

Kreacher hopped down onto the floor, the pan hanging at his side now. He looked between Harry and Draco. “One more, sir?” he asked, glaring at Mundungus threateningly. 

 

Draco and Ron laughed. Hermione felt the corners of her lips tug upwards into a smile. She let out the breath she just realised she’d been holding, and turned to look at Draco. He was smiling, still laughing at Kreacher’s comment. Her heart fluttered, and it felt as though a weight had been lifted, at least temporarily. They were allowed to have these moments, weren’t they? They could still have a laugh.

 

Harry was smiling when he said to Kreacher, “If he proves to be difficult, then yes, Kreacher. But right now, we need to talk to him.” 

 

Kreacher nodded, thanked Harry and moved to stand behind Draco once more, saucepan still in hand. The tension in the room returned as the four of them once again focused on Mundungus. Hermione noticed Draco and Ron were holding their wands firmly in their hands, just as she was. 

 

“When you all but ripped this house apart for its valuables, you nicked a load from the kitchen cupboard. One of those valuables was a locket. Where is it?” Harry spoke quickly and firmly. Hermione could practically feel the excitement radiating from her best friend. 

 

“Oh, don’t tell me that was worth a fortune?!” Mundungus cried. 

 

“You mean to say you still have it?” she asked, her words rushing out in one breath. 

 

“Of course not,” Ron said, staring at Mundungus with disgust. He circled the thief slowly. “He’s upset because he thinks he could’ve gotten more for it.” 

 

“Wha’ are you--” Mundungus stuttered, confused. “I didn’t get a knut for that locket! I ‘ad to give it away, I did.” 

 

“Explain,” Draco snapped, looking irritated. “ _ Now _ .” Hermione felt a shiver ripple down her spine at his tone of voice, and a heat rush between her legs. She shook her head, letting her hair hide her face, hoping that no one would notice the pink tint in her cheeks. 

 

Mundungus let out a heavy sigh and told them the short tale. After hearing the story of the woman confiscating the locket from the thief, the four of them stared at one another, all of them thinking. “Who was she?” Harry asked after a few seconds of silence. 

 

“How the hell should I know?” Mundungus asked, looking bewildered. “Looked like she worked at the Ministry, though.” 

 

“What did she look like?” she asked, hoping to coax Mundungus into giving a more detailed description. Her heart was already starting to pound. If it was a Ministry employee who had the locket, it was going to be difficult retrieving it…

 

“Lemme think...” the thief said, scrunching his features. “There was a bow in ‘er hair… Erm, she was short. And stout. To be frank, she looked like a toad.” 

 

Harry bowed his head. Hermione felt her heart drop into her stomach.  _ No,  _ she thought.

 

_ No...no...no... _

 

* * *

 

Umbridge had the locket, that was the only thing they knew. After they’d released Mundungus, the four of them had sat in silence, just like they had after Remus and Harry’s argument. It was only after Kreacher had retreated upstairs that any of them spoke. 

 

“How are we going to get it?”

 

“What are we going to do?”

 

“ _Umbridge_! Of all people to have the bloody thing and it has to be that toad.” 

 

Their voices mixed together, their own opinions and worries being drowned out. Harry, however, remained quiet. He wasn’t insulting Umbridge, or worrying out loud like the rest of them. Hermione stopped to watch him, leaving Draco and Ron to theorise together. Harry’s brow was furrowed, and he held his fingertips to his mouth, nibbling on the skin around his nails. Hermione could practically see the wheels in his brain turning. 

 

“Harry,” she said, cutting through the two boys’ voices, silencing them. “What are you thinking? How are we going to get this locket?” 

 

He looked up at them then, looking as if he’d forgotten they were there. All of three of them sat silently, waiting for him to speak. Even Draco was looking directly at him, patiently awaiting his thoughts. “We’re going to have to break into the Ministry,” he said simply. “I can’t think of anything else.” 

 

Hermione nodded, knowing that it was the truth. They had no other options, no other means of cornering Umbridge and collecting the real locket. But inside, she could feel her heart sinking and her stomach twisting into knots. They were in over their heads. They were mad. They were going to break into the Ministry of Magic -- which Voldemort now had control of -- and they were going to steal back a piece of his soul. This was above anything she had ever expected to face when she had entered the Wizarding World seven years ago. 

 

At that exact moment, as her heart was really beginning to pound fiercely in her chest and her thoughts started to race, Draco slipped his hand into hers. Warm, and strong against her skin. She gripped his hand tightly, as if it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. To this moment. 

 

“We can do this, Hermione,” Ron said confidently, sitting up straight in his chair and looking around at the three of them, like they were in a meeting. She’d heard Ron talk seriously plenty of times in her life, but there was something different about this time. “Right?” he added, when the other boys remained silent. 

 

She was ready, of course she was. She’d been prepared to go with Harry for a long time. But now, they were living it. They were on their own, the Order had no idea of their plans, and now they had the dilemma of the locket. It just all felt impossible in this moment. Too overwhelming to even comprehend at first. But the three of them were so sure that they could get this done. Hermione sighed heavily, hoping it would release some of the weight from her chest. 

 

She looked around at her three boys, and felt her heart started to swell. Harry, the boy she met on the train to Hogwarts almost seven years ago. The Boy Who Lived. The boy who had been through more heartache and more loss than anyone she knew. The boy who stood strong in the face of danger, and performed valiantly and bravely every time. The boy who would rather share what little he had than keep it all for himself. And Ron; loyal, paternal and funny. Despite their bump in the road during their most recent school year, she knew she could always depend on him. Even for things as simple as reminding her to eat, or take a break from studying. He could make her laugh with a simple facial expression or gesture and she had no idea how she would have gotten through moments of panic without him.

 

And Draco,  _ her  _ Draco. The boy who was so much more than what appeared on the surface. The boy who knew the stars like the back of his hand, and loved his mother’s cake as if he were still four years old. The boy who had been given no choice, but made one for himself anyway. The boy who had willingly walked away from everything he knew for  _ this _ . Draco was strong, even if some thought he didn’t look it. But that was his best weapon, and he was using it for good. It was then that she knew... As long as they were together, they could do anything. 

 

“Let’s get planning then, shall we?” she said with finality, a confirmation of their decision.  _ We’re really doing this,  _ she thought to herself.  _ We’re going to break into the Ministry of Magic.  _

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

He was the first to wake that morning. They’d all been up late the night before going over their plans to break into the Ministry, and he didn’t have the heart to wake Hermione, so he slipped out of bed, made himself a cup of tea and decided to wander the House of Black. As he climbed the stairs, he wondered how many summer or winter breaks his mother had spent here. Had she ever? Had she spent her younger days playing with Sirius and Regulus? Did her sisters ever join her? 

 

Draco let his feet carry him while he stayed lost in his thoughts, imagining his mother and his Aunts running up and down the stairs, through the hallways, and exploring the different rooms the house held. He stopped when he realised he’d come all the way to the top floor.

 

There were only two doors on the landing -- no hallways. The door in front of him stood slightly ajar, letting sunshine flood onto the landing. The room was not empty, however. In the few inches of space from the gap in the door, Draco could see Harry sitting on the bed, staring out the window. His chest felt strange, like it was aching. A similar ache to one he would get when he felt sorry for Hermione, or his mother.  _ Damn it,  _ he thought bitterly to himself. He hadn’t admitted it to anyone, not even Hermione, but he was starting to...soften towards Potter. Something had changed inside him that night at the Burrow, when Harry had told him everything. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it, but he was finding it harder to hate the boy he’d tried so hard to make miserable in the past. How could he when he knew Harry was literally carrying the weight of their world on his shoulders? It was all up to him… Their fate rested in his hands. 

 

He didn’t know what made him do it; it felt like an invisible force was pushing him forward, opening the door wider, bringing him closer to Harry. He stopped at his side, but remained standing. “Morning, Potter,” he ground out, his jaw tight and his insides squirming uncomfortably. Why was he doing this?

 

Harry turned to look at him; dark circles under his eyes, the corners of his lips stuck in a frown and crease lines on his forehead. “Morning,” he said hoarsely, turning back to the window. 

 

Silence fell between them. Draco stood up onto his toes, hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes staring out the same window as Harry. “What are you doing up here?” Draco asked. “You know Hermione freaks out if she wakes up and can’t find you right away.” 

 

Harry chuckled softly and shook his head. “I know,” he said. He exhaled slowly. “Just thinking, is all.” 

 

“Right,” said Draco, having no desire to hear about Potter’s thoughts at barely seven in the morning. “We should, uh--”

 

“This was Sirius’s room,” Harry said, cutting him off. Draco’s mouth snapped shut. He looked around for the first time. He saw the countless posters plastered all over the walls, the Gryffindor banners, pictures of giant metal contraptions and girls in bikinis. And then his eyes fell to it: the only moving photograph among them all. Four boys, standing side-by-side, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, easy-going smiles on their faces. Immediately, he could point out which one was Harry’s father. With the untidy black hair and glasses, Harry was practically a spitting image. 

 

“I can tell,” Draco said heavily, now completely uncomfortable. “Proud to be the black sheep of the family.” It wasn’t an insult, there was no sneer or mockery in his voice. It was merely a statement, a fact. One that was staring him in the face. 

 

Harry nodded again, his hands clutched together, his elbows resting on his thighs. “He wasn’t very good at subtlety,” he said with another chuckle, this one empty and hollow. 

 

“That’s obvious,” Draco said, feeling his body begin to relax. The sun was above the horizon now. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. “We should get back downstairs. Hermione might be awake soon--”

 

“You’re right,” said Harry, who stood abruptly from the bed and moved past him towards the door. Draco watched silently as Harry left his Godfather’s room and started down the stairs. With no other way to go than down, Draco followed. 

 

They’d only gone down two floors when Draco reached out to grab Harry’s arm. “Potter,” he said, keeping his voice low in case Hermione was awake and looking for them. “You won’t tell Hermione that we talked, will you? I don’t need her getting any ideas about us being friends.” 

 

Harry smirked and stepped down one step, freeing himself from Draco’s grasp. “You changed sides in a war, you’re dating my best friend, you helped get me to safety and nearly died doing so, and now you’re leaving everything behind to help me defeat Voldemort. We’re friends, whether we like it or not.” 

 

Draco winced. “We don’t have to actually use that term, do we?” 

 

“No,” Harry said at once. “Definitely not.” Draco hated it when the corners of his lips quirked upwards, and an inaudible chuckle escaped his lips. They continued down the stairs in silence, more comfortable than the one that fell over them in Sirius’s bedroom. When they reached the first floor, something caught Draco’s eye. From here, he could see that one of doors was open slightly, and there was something covering the wall…

 

“Potter,” he said, not fully understanding why he felt so compelled to go in there. “What’s that?” They’d been in that room once since their arrival, but they’d been filled with worry then. They’d torn that room apart looking for the locket. He hadn’t exactly studied the decor.

 

Harry stopped and looked at him before starting down the hall. Draco followed, keeping a short distance between them. “Oh,” said Harry as they drew closer. “ _ That _ .” They were at the door now, and Draco had already pushed the door wide open and entered. He heard Harry step into the room behind him. Draco stared at the wall facing him, and felt his breath hitch in his throat. He’d heard about this…

 

“Is this the Black family tapestry?” Draco asked, stepping closer still, the branches and portraits coming into view. Harry was standing next to him, stiff with his jaw set. He nodded tersely, staring blankly ahead. Draco ran his fingers over the tapestry, the worn fabric soft beneath his touch. The tips of his fingers followed a branch then led right to a scorch mark. He pulled away, and froze when he saw the name underneath. 

 

_ Andromeda Black _

 

“My aunt,” he said hoarsely, letting his hand fall limp at his side. He frowned, eyebrows furrowing. 

 

“Sirius told me it was because she married a muggle-born,” Harry said, glancing at Draco out of the corner of his eyes to see his reaction. 

 

Draco swallowed, but said nothing. He saw his mother, and Bellatrix, both of their portraits untouched. He even saw his own name linked to his mother’s. His eyes roamed the rest of the tapestry, familiar names popping out at him. He came to Sirius’s name and noticed that a scorch mark replaced his portrait as well. Harry said nothing as Draco stood there taking it all in, looking at the names of his relatives and ancestors. But in the end, his eyes fell back to Andromeda’s name. “If Sirius’s mum was still alive, I’d be scorched off this too,” he said quietly, continuing to stare at the scorch mark. 

 

Harry let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t think that would be such a bad thing,” he said, turning to look at Draco for the first time since they’d entered the room, a hint of a smile on his face. Draco smiled slightly and shook his head, breaking his gaze from the tapestry. Just then they heard Hermione’s voice shouting from down the hall. 

 

“Harry! Draco! Come on, we’ve got to plan!” 

 

Draco shot Harry a look as if to say  _ what did I tell you,  _ before they both turned away from the tapestry and headed back into the hall, following the sound of Hermione’s voice. 

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

“Hermione, can we  _ please  _ just talk about it?” Draco said for the fourth time. 

 

They were perched near the Ministry entrance, crouched down in an alley under Harry’s invisibility cloak. She’d been fine with coming alone, but Draco insisted on coming with her that day. The previous morning, Harry had returned with a current copy of the  _ Daily Prophet _ , and a headline bearing the words  _ Muggle-born Registration Commission _ glared up at them. Harry had looked sick while she’d scanned the article and who the list included, her jaw trembling slightly when she’d found her name. 

 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Draco,” she snapped, not taking her eyes off the Ministry entrance. She had a roll of parchment perched on her thighs, with the quill hovering just inches above it. 

 

“Your name was on that list,” he whispered. The thick, grey clouds that filled the sky that morning were finally letting the rain fall. It’d started out slow, just a few drops now and again, but as the minutes ticked by, the rain grew heavier. There was undeniable chill in the air, out of place for an August day, and despite the protection of the cloak, she was starting to get cold. The weather was definitely not helping her mood.

 

“And?” she said shrilly, yet quietly. “Unless you’re suggesting I actually go in for interrogation--”

 

“Of course not,” Draco shot back, wringing his hands together as he watched several Ministry employees wrench open the door to the entrance. “But shouldn’t we at least re-work the plan? I don’t think it’s such a good idea if--”

 

Hermione barked out an incredulous laugh, finally turning her head to look at him. “The Ministry is now run by Death Eaters, and not one of us has talked about leaving Harry out of it. I’m not staying behind, Draco.” 

 

He let out a defeated sigh, bowing his head. “I’m not going to convince you otherwise, am I?” he asked. 

 

“No, you’re not,” she said firmly. “Might want to quit while you’re ahead.” 

 

Draco mumbled under his breath beside her while she continued to jot down observations she felt important to remember. The rain began to fall harder and the wind was starting to pick up. The cloak fluttered around them, the ends flapping in the wind. 

 

“We should get going,” she said after clearing her throat. Draco grunted in response while she rolled up the parchment and stowed everything away into her beaded bag. Together they stood up and double checked that indeed they still had their wands and the cloak covered them completely. He gripped her hand tightly in his. Normally, she loved these reassuring squeezes. But today, it wasn’t helping. She felt separated from the rest of them, especially Draco. 

 

Seeing her name on that list was just another reminder that she and Draco were from different worlds. She was proud to be a muggle-born, but sometimes...sometimes she wished things were different. The name-calling and the sneers and taunts she’d received at Hogwarts practically sounded  _ inviting  _ compared what the Ministry was pulling. It was no secret that those who hated muggle-borns thought they somehow stole magic from another witch or wizard, which she thought was ridiculous. How on Earth could one steal another’s magic? There were countless flaws with their way of thinking, but none of them made her feel any better as they disappeared into thin air, heading back to Grimmauld Place. 

 

* * *

 

They landed on the top step with surprising precision, given that she’d been completely distracted. Both she and Draco turned their heads over their shoulders, to see the two black cloaked figures. The taller of the two raised his head and from where she stood, it looked as though he were looking straight at her, making eye-contact. Her heart skipped a beat and she turned back around quickly, every one of her senses now heightened. He hadn’t actually see her had he? He couldn’t have, they landed on the top step. 

 

“Let’s get inside,” Draco muttered, placing his hand on the small of her back and urging her forward after he’d opened the door. 

 

Hermione didn’t hesitate, wanting to put a greater distance between herself and the Death Eaters now. Once they were both inside with the door firmly shut and the cloak off, she grabbed Draco by the arm, holding him in place. 

 

“There’s no way they could have seen us, right?” she asked, hating how nervous she sounded. She knew plenty about magical enchantments and understood how the Fidelius Charm worked; right now she just needed reassurance. Confirmation that her knowledge was correct, and she was not, as she feared, losing her touch. 

 

Draco looked her then stepped into the living room to peer behind the curtain. Hermione remained where she was in front of the door, holding her breath. 

 

“I don’t think so,” he said calmly as he came towards her. “They’re still just standing there.” 

 

She nodded, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Draco studied her, lingering in the doorway between the living room and the front hallway where she stood. His face, however, was expressionless. He was always good at that: keeping his emotions buried. It was nearly impossible to read him sometimes, which she knew is exactly what he wanted. But over time, she’d started to piece together other clues that helped her gauge his feelings. If his body was stiff, like it was now, she knew he was either frustrated or scared. If his arms were crossed, he was in the mood to discuss whatever it was that was bothering him. She noted the way his lip would twitch if he was really angry, and the clenching of his jaw when he was holding back everything he wanted to say. 

 

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Good. We should go find--”

 

“Come on,” he said. “There’s something I want to show you.” 

 

But Hermione didn’t move right away. Her body was sore -- the couch she had to sleep on was not comfortable in the slightest -- and after yesterday and that morning, she just wanted to lie down or maybe curl up by the fire and read for a bit. 

 

“Draco,” she started, but Draco grabbed her hand with one of his and brought his other hand to her face, pressing his index finger to her lips. She scowled and pushed his hand away with her free one. 

 

“Just trust me, all right?” he said wearily, and it was his tone of voice that got her. In that split second, he’d let his walls down; his features looked tired, from his frown to the creases in his forehead. 

 

“All right,” she said quietly. 

 

Draco led her up the stairs and turned off on the first floor landing. They walked down the hall, towards the drawing room. To her surprise, Harry and Ron were plopped down on the floor, a tray of empty plates littered with crumbs and a teapot sat in the middle of them, and they were going over their notes for the Ministry break in. 

 

“Potter,” Draco said, almost business-like. “Can we have a minute?” 

 

Harry and Ron looked up, eyes narrowed at Draco before turning to look at one another. She knew they were having a silent conversation. Hermione rolled her eyes and Draco tapped his foot impatiently and huffed as Ron and Harry conversed in whispers for a moment. Then finally, the two boys started to gather their notes and cleaned up the area before nodding at both her and Draco and leaving the room. 

 

“Thanks,” Draco called after them. 

 

Harry stopped in the doorway and turned around. “No problem,” he said with a nod. “We’ll be down in the kitchen. Kreacher’s going to make lunch soon.” 

 

As Harry walked down the hallway, Draco went over and shut the door. He then took her hand again and led her over to the piano that sat in the corner at the opposite end of the room. They sat side by side on the bench, and Draco pulled back the cover, exposing the keys. 

 

“You said you took lessons when you were younger?” he asked, looking at her now. 

 

Hermione nodded. “Only for a year or two. My piano teacher got pregnant with her first child and didn’t want to come back to it. And I just...never picked it back up. I liked school too much,” she chuckled thoughtfully, thinking back to primary school years. But her memories faded quickly, and soon she found herself in the present again. Draco was still watching her, undoubtedly waiting for her to actually be paying attention. 

 

“I could help you brush up on your playing. Get the gears moving again,” he said steadily, now looking down at the keys, his fingers resting against them so naturally. 

 

“Draco,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “We should be planning. There’s so much--”

 

“We have been over our plan at least a hundred times now--”

 

“There could be things we need to tweak or change--” 

 

“Are you determined to be stressed, Granger?” The use of her surname caught her by surprise. She’d gotten so used to different tones of her first name that the sound of  _ Granger  _ rolling off his tongue brought images of the two of them in the Room of Requirement rushing into view. 

 

“What?” she said, only catching fully what he had said seconds after he’d finished. “I--no,” she said with a frown. “But this isn’t a time to...to relax or...whatever this is,” she gestured at the piano. 

 

“Right,” he said flatly. “Because stressing yourself to the point of breaking or having some sort of...I don’t know, meltdown or something, is necessary, just because you have important things to do.” 

 

When she remained silent, sitting facing straight ahead, her arms crossed over chest, Draco continued, speaking softly now, almost gently. “Look,” he said. “As much as I hate saying this, Potter and Weasley aren’t complete dunderheads. They can deal without us for another twenty minutes.” 

 

Hermione sucked in a breath before opening her mouth to speak. “It’s like you’re insisting that I’m not fine, when I am.” 

 

“Because I know you, Hermione.” he said, removing one hand from the keys to rest on her thigh. “Remember all those times you begged me to just let you help, or let you...be there?” She nodded, not daring to look at him as tears had started to pool in her eyes. “Let me, alright?” 

 

Slowly, and just barely, she nodded, reaching one hand up to brush away the tears. She heard him release a breath as he leaned forward to shuffle through the abandoned sheet music. He must have finally selected one as he adjusted himself on the bench and proceeded to instruct her on where to place her hands. Draco worked her through each note, one by one, playing it for her in a higher key. When she would mirror him correctly, they moved on to the next one. It was slow at first, but the more they worked through, the quicker she picked up her pace. 

 

When she’d gotten the hang of each note, and having gotten through the entire song, she and Draco played it together. She messed up a few times, missing a note or playing the wrong one. When this happened, she would stop but Draco insisted she keep going. 

 

“Just pick up where you left off,” he would say calmly, as he paused in his playing too. 

 

It definitely took longer than twenty minutes, but by that time, she didn’t care. It was soothing; the cool and smooth feel of the keys beneath her fingers, the melodic and dreamy tune of the music flowing in one ear and out the other, and the feel of Draco sitting beside her playing along. As the minutes ticked by, and they kept playing that same song, she felt her mind empty, like the music was carrying away her worries. She stole a glance at Draco out of the corner of her eye, and saw that he had his eyes closed and was swaying slightly as he played. The corner of her lips tugged upwards as her heart swelled with admiration and wonder. With the sunlight now drifting in through the large windows, bouncing off his hair and pale skin, he looked almost unreal. Ethereal.

 

But it wasn’t his extraordinary genetics that were making her choke up, a lump forming in her throat. It was as if the slight gap she’d felt wedging between them after the news from yesterday, was disappearing as they merged back together as they created something together that didn’t require magic. Something so beautiful and complicated, it didn’t matter if magic ran through your veins, or where you came from. You could learn, creating a different kind of magic entirely.

 

* * *

 

For the first time since she had found out she was a witch, Hermione dreaded the first of September. As the days had slipped away, something was building inside her, ready to burst. Not only was she  _ not  _ returning for her final year of education, but this year at Hogwarts was going to be drastically different. She thought of Ginny, Luna and Neville. Her heart lurched. Dumbledore was dead, and according to the headline glaring up at them all, Severus Snape was now Headmaster at Hogwarts.

 

Hermione had no idea what to make of this information. Snape had helped her and Draco the night of Dumbledore’s death; he’d helped them get out of the grounds and gave them instructions on what to do afterwards. But then she learned that Snape had been the one to murder Dumbledore, and he’d been with the Death Eaters the night they’d moved Harry from Privet Drive. It was clear he was playing a double agent; the trouble was they had no idea which side he was playing for. If he was truly pledged to Voldemort and his Death Eaters, what would he do to Hogwarts? Would Voldemort have control of the school? Her stomach churned at the thought. 

 

“What’s it say, Hermione?” Draco asked as he sat down beside her, placing a cup of tea in front of her. She cleared her throat, rustled the paper to see the inky black words better, and read the first paragraph out loud. Bile was rising in her throat as she drank in the knowledge that Death Eaters were now holding two teaching positions at the school. She pictured Snape in his billowing, black cloak standing in Dumbledore’s office. And that was when it hit her. “Oh my god,” she cried, pushing away from the table and bolting out of her chair. 

 

As she ran towards the staircase, she heard three sets of footsteps behind her followed by several shouts of her name. But she didn’t stop. It had been sitting there all morning. What if he’d realised it by now? 

 

“What on Earth is she doing?” she heard Ron mumble not far behind her, as she had slowed her pace. 

 

Hermione went straight when she reached the second landing and headed for the bedroom where Harry and Ron had slept two summers ago. She reached the door and pushed it open with a turn of the knob. Harry, Ron and Draco were behind her now. She crossed the room with purpose hanging on the wall of an elderly man sleeping. With a wave of her wand, the portrait flew off the wall and hovered in mid-air. She gave her wand another flick, and a blindfold obscured Phineas Nigellus’ sight. He awoke, startled, then began to shout in protest. “Sorry,” she muttered before shrinking his portrait to a smaller size and stuffing it in her beaded bag, which she now wore strung around her neck. 

 

She turned to face the three boys, and judging by the looks on their faces, they still didn’t have a clue what she had done. “That was Phineas Nigellus,” she explained with a small sigh and set out for the hallway to return to the kitchen. Kreacher would have dinner ready any minute now. “He has a portrait in Dumbledore’s office. I don’t know if Snape already realised it, but it’s not a problem now.” 

 

Draco pulled her into him, so she rested against his side, and kissed the top of her head. “How is it you think of everything?” he whispered in her ear. 

 

She was thankful Ron and Harry were walking in front of them so they didn’t have to witness the few seconds of snogging they stole on the staircase -- she could hear the two boys conversing as they traipsed down the steps. When Draco pulled away from her, she felt the same heat between her legs and in her cheeks as she had weeks ago when Kreacher had brought them Mundungus. He shot her a smug smile, then grasped her hand in his and continued walking down the stairs, back to the kitchen. 

 

They’d all sat down to eat the french onion soup Kreacher had made for dinner when Harry said something that made her choke on the spoonful of hot liquid she’d just swallowed. 

 

“I want to break into the Ministry tomorrow,” he said, looking at the three of them with his jaw set and that determined glint in his eye. Hermione knew it was a lost battle then. He’d already made up his mind. 

 

“Harry--” she began. 

 

“Listen,” Harry said over her, putting up a hand to stop her. “Mundungus told us Umbridge confiscated the locket, but who knows how long ago that was? I wouldn’t be surprised if she got rid of it already. So the longer we wait and hang about the entrance, the less chance we have of getting that locket.” 

 

She  _ knew  _ he was right. Their chances seemed slim to begin with. But even still, they could always be more prepared. They had a fair amount of information to get them through the ordeal but it was a risky situation to begin with, and if their plan went wrong…

 

She didn’t want to think about that right now. 

 

“Hermione,” Harry said quietly. “We know all the important stuff. We know we need those tokens to get in, and we’ll have those if phase one goes correctly. We have an idea of where Umbridge’s office is--”

 

“There’s an awful lot relying on chance here, Potter.” Draco drawled from her left. “Something can easily go wrong. What if one of us is the Mad-Eye of this operation?” 

 

All the air seemed to leave the room the moment the words slipped from his mouth. Hermione gasped, her jaw going slack. Harry clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing darkly at Draco, and Ron stepped closer to Harry, his expression hardening with every passing second. 

 

“You don’t think that thought hasn’t run through my mind hundreds of times already?” Harry said quietly, yet steadily. “You don’t think that I haven’t woken from nightmares about my friends dying? But there’s no one else to do this, Malfoy!” Harry’s voice had risen to a shout now. “It’s up to  _ us _ . There’s...there’s no one else...” 

 

Hermione cleared her throat, lifted her chin, and stared steadily at Draco. “We need to stick together,” she said calmly. “We haven’t even taken action yet, and we’re already bickering. She took a breath to steady herself, “we all need to be focused on the same thing, we need to be united. Like the Sorting Hat was telling us for years. That is the only way this mission will be successful, regardless of when we do it.” 

 

“Your name is on a list of muggle-borns wanted for interrogation, which you also failed to show for,” Draco retorted, his voice shaking with frustration. “We are all  _ highly  _ wanted. Potter’s the most wanted man amongst Wizarding Britain, Weasley’s just as sought after for suspicion of accompanying Potter, and me...well, the second a Death Eater lays eyes on me, I’m either dead or will be once Voldemort arrives. They’ll call him, I know they will. If anything about this plan fails…” he let his sentence trail off, avoiding looking directly at her. 

 

She knew what was at stake. But they had no other choice. Not this time. They needed that locket. 

 

* * *

 

The four of them were not a pretty sight the next morning, including Draco. Ron was the first to point this out. They’d all been up late the previous night, making sure everyone knew the plan by heart. Hermione informed them she already had everything packed, ready to go. Morning came far too quickly for their liking, but they had a job to do. 

 

Kreacher came into view, carrying a tray over his head, before he placed it on the table. “We does not have much, sir,” the elf said apologetically, looking at Harry. “Kreacher apologises.” 

 

On the table, Hermione saw the tray only contained a plate of steaming rolls and a pot of coffee. At least the coffee would wake them up. They thanked Kreacher, assuring him it was fine and sat down to force something into their stomachs. None of them, however, were very eager to reach for a roll. Hermione was the first to pour herself a cup of coffee, followed closely by Ron. They ate in silence, and not even ten minutes later, they traipsed out to the front step. 

 

It was unusually cold for the second of September; the sun bleak in the sky with a light mist obscuring the square. Draco and Harry stood off to the side as she Apparated with Ron first. Only a few seconds later did she come back for Harry, followed by Draco. 

 

The alley was small, but with the four of them squeezed in there, it seemed ridiculously tiny. Hermione stood pressed against the wall, carefully peering out into the street. They only had a few minutes before they would begin phase one. Her stomach churned and twisted, the rolls feeling like a weight inside her. She could hear Harry and Ron whispering to one another, their words barely coherent to her from this distance. Draco stood next to her, his left hand clenching her right. Even out of the corner of her eye, she could see him checking his watch every few seconds. 

 

“Okay, let’s go now,” Harry commanded from between Draco and Ron. 

 

Ron turned to his right and unlocked a metal door. Together, the four of them stepped into the empty theater, closing the door until there was just a sliver of light left. They stood right in front of the door, the invisibility cloak over them, and waited. 

 

The first  _ pop  _ caught her off guard. A split second later however, she sent a stunning spell to the woman’s midsection. 

 

A few minutes later, Hermione had her polyjuice with Mafalda Hopkirk’s hairs in it, in her hand. The tokens they’d nicked from her robes were clenched firmly in her other hand. Quickly, and unsure of how it would taste, she downed the potion. Her insides began to squirm and she felt her body shift and pull and squish until she looked down and saw the body of the Ministry witch in her place. 

 

The ordeal to obtain Ron’s Ministry employee was disgusting, and quite frankly, Hermione still didn’t think it was at all necessary. They could have concealed two unconscious bodies. It wasn’t long before Ron stood beside her, identical to the Ministry employee they had just watched vanish. Fetching two more Ministry workers for Harry and Draco took her and Ron a total of fifteen minutes, sending her into a slight panic. They had to be behind schedule, she was sure of it. 

 

Another five minutes later, and Harry and Draco were transformed into two Ministry workers. Draco resembled a stocky, shorter man with dark, wild curls and green eyes. Harry however, towered over them all, though he too was quite muscular and broad. With everything stowed away and coins distributed to each of them, they stood in the doorway to the alley. Hermione’s knees were shaking slightly and more than anything she wished she could grip Draco’s hand, but even that was too much of a risk. 

 

“Are we ready?” Harry asked, his voice low. 

 

Hermione nodded, knowing the other two did as well, and together the four of them set off down the alley onto the busy street. She didn’t know what the three boys were thinking, she couldn’t ask them. All she knew was that she was hoping and praying that if nothing else, they at least would all make it out alive. 


	43. Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24. So we're sorry if anyone was looking forward to the Ministry break-in scene, but with our plans it wouldn't have been much different than the book and well, it would have basically been re-writing an entire chapter of Deathly Hallows. Aside from that, we hope you guys enjoy! Thanks your love and comments with each passing week!

Every breath in Hermione’s body left her in a rush when her back hit the hard, damp ground. She was winded, and her neck ached something terrible after the back of her head had slammed down too hard after her fall. It took her a few seconds of blinking to erase the black dots dancing around her vision, and then she could finally see that where she had wanted to Apparate to, had worked. Trees towered into the air above them, their branches widespread with sparse amount of leaves on them. The sky was gloomy and grey, clouds heavy over them.

 

Their self-assigned mission to the Ministry did  _ not _ go as well as they had planned it to. They’d all had their doubts about whether they’d be able to pull it off, but she didn’t think that any of them could have anticipated it all to turn out this horribly. They’d been separated almost immediately: Ron had been directed to Yaxley’s office, Harry had been left with the Minister for Magic, Thicknesse, and Hermione had been approached by Umbridge and taken down to the courtrooms. By some unknown strike of luck, the wizard Draco had been Polyjuiced into -- an Auror -- had been assigned as a guard down at the courtroom, and the both of them soon discovered exactly what was going on.

 

She had been sick to her stomach as she’d had to watch several Muggleborns sit before the court and be trialed simply because of their blood status. It had taken a lot of willpower and logical reasoning for her to stop from lifting her wand and cursing the toad-like woman in the back of the head. She’d been terrified that their Polyjuice would wear out, and before that could happen, Harry had appeared in the courtroom, followed by Draco, and all hell had broken loose. There had been no chance for a discrete getaway, and after Stupefying many of the court members -- including Umbridge --, Draco and Harry and herself had ran from the court chambers, followed by Yaxley, and managed to meet up with Ron in the Atrium.

 

The fear that she’d felt in her body every second they’d been in the Ministry, had almost been too much to handle, and when Draco’s Polyjuice had worn off in the atrium, she’d been so happy to see  _ him _ rather than the strange foreboding man he’d transformed into, that she could have cried with relief. Harry’s Polyjuice wore off, as did hers, and it was then that she’d managed to grab Draco and Harry, and the latter took hold of Ron’s arm, and just before she’d Apparated them out, Yaxley had taken a hold of her arm. Arriving at the steps of Grimmauld Place she had hardly had a second to push him off of her before she’d been forced to Apparate once more to where they were now. 

 

She didn’t know how long it took her to come to her senses… To turn her head to the side and spot Draco lying on his front on the ground. She groaned slightly as she pushed up to lean on one hand, and she hissed through her teeth when pain shot up her arm. Turning her head, she spotted Harry on his back a few feet away from them, and then her hearing zoned in on something that wasn't normal… 

 

“Ron!” she exclaimed loudly when she spotted him lying on his back too, the entire left side of his torso drenched red in blood. She immediately hoped that it wasn’t his own blood, which really made no sense at all -- she’d seen that Harry or Draco hadn’t been injured after being Apparated, and even if they had, there would be no way for their blood to have covered Ron in such a way.

 

Hermione pushed to her feet and stumbled across the short distance and dropped to her knees beside Ron and with shaky hands, tried to unbutton his shirt before she remembered she had her wand on her. A quick spell severed his sleeve from his arm, and undid the buttons on the front of his shirt, exposing his torso and wound. She could now see clearly that he’d been splinched; the consequence of side-along Apparating four people together to two places in a matter of seconds.

 

Her heart was pounding, fear rising over what was going to happen to Ron, and she was stuck for a moment as to what she had to do. The sight of his wound made her stomach roll, it was as if his skin had been cleanly sliced from his arm, and there was nothing remotely funny about this as it had been when he’d splinched his eyebrow off during their first Apparition test.

 

“It’ll be okay, Ron,” she rushed out, her voice shaking as much as her hands. She heard the rustling of leaves and looked up from Ron’s arm to see Harry coming over quickly, face pale as he saw what had happened. “Harry, there’s a little bottle in my bag,” she said, jerking her head to where her beaded bag was, near where she’d landed. “It’s got  _ Essence of Dittany _ written on it. Hurry and get it!” She knew her voice was getting higher and higher the more stressed out and scared she became, as Ron groaned and thrashed under her touch. “Shhh,” she consoled shakily, and brushed his hair back from his forehead, but paled when she saw the streak of blood her palm left on his skin, “Ron, you’re safe, I-I’m going to fix you, I promise…  _ Harry _ !”

 

She heard Harry Accio the bottle from her bag, and then he dropped to his knees beside her. “Hermione, I think he’s fainted,” he said, and she looked at Ron’s face once more and saw how his eyelids were half closed, only showing the whites of his eyes.

 

“Just--Just put some of the dittany on his arm,” she instructed, holding Ron steady. “I can’t do it, my hands are shaking too much…” 

 

She watched Harry fumble with the stopper for a few seconds before he finally got his nerves under control enough to drop some of the dittany along Ron’s injury, and they both watched as it smoked slightly when it hit his skin, before his skin started to knit together, leaving behind a scar that looked like it had been healed for days. “Thank God for magic,” Harry muttered as he put the pipette back into the vial of dittany, and rest his hands on his thighs, staring down at Ron.

 

“That’s all I want to do…” Hermione whispered. “I know some spells, but…I’ve never practiced them. I don’t want to cause more harm than good; he’s already lost so much blood.”

 

“It’s alright,” Harry told her, and moved his hand to rest on her forearm to give her a reassuring squeeze.

 

“What actually happened?” Draco asked, and they both turned around to look at him as he walked up to them, obviously having recovered from landing quite suddenly on the forest floor. She had enough reason to suspect that he’d been knocked out, and was glad nothing more serious had happened. “How did he even get injured?”

 

“Yeah, I thought we were going back to Grimmauld,” Harry added, his brows furrowed.

 

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as she realised that she was the only one that understood why she’d taken them to the forest. Guilt flooded through her, and she didn’t want to meet Harry’s eye. “Harry, I--I don’t think we can go back to Grimmauld,” she said.

 

“What?” he asked, but thankfully, didn’t look angry.

 

“When we Apparated from the Ministry, Yaxley got a hold of me,” she explained to Harry and Draco, and her voice wavered. “I couldn’t shake his grip, and he was still with us when we got to the step of Grimmauld, and then -- well, I think he saw the door. I managed to get his hand off me and I Apparated us to the first place I thought of, and I don’t know why it was here…”

 

“Where is here?” Draco asked and looked around them.

 

She hadn’t heard him, and looked down at her hands when Harry pointed his wand at them and cast a cleaning charm, and all of a sudden, it was as if she hadn’t had a speck of blood on her in the first place. “Thanks,” she breathed and then pushed to her feet and gripped her wand tightly. “I need to put wards up,” she said, wiping the heel of her hand under her nose.

 

“I’ll help,” Harry said, just as quietly. “Keep an eye on him, yeah?” he said to Draco, gesturing at Ron who was still on the ground, passed out.

 

If Draco made any noise of complaint, Hermione didn’t hear, and focused completely on constructing wards around them, keeping the space small enough that they could fit the tent from her bag, easily. The last thing they needed was to overestimate how much space they needed, and have their wards weaken because of it.

 

She walked around the space with her wand in the air, chanting the ward charms under her breath that she, Harry and Ron had spent so much time practicing back in Hogwarts. Five minutes later, she almost bumped into Harry, who had been chanting the same wards, walking in the opposite direction of the circle she had been. “Done?” he asked, and she nodded.

 

Hermione kept her wand firmly in her hand as he walked back to Ron and Draco, the latter sitting on the ground with his knees up, arms rested on top. She sat beside him and leaned against his side with a tired sigh, and watched Harry drop down onto his knees beside Ron. “Those are all the wards I know,” she said to them. “I’m positive it will work… I can’t guarantee it can keep out Vold--”

 

“ _ Don’t  _ say his name,” Ron groaned, and Hermione stopped talking at once, and her eyes widened as she looked down at him.

 

“ _ Ron _ ! Are you okay? Does it hurt? What can I do to help?”

 

“Let him breathe, Hermione,” Harry rolled his eyes, the knowledge that Ron was now alright obviously letting him relax.

 

Hermione put her hand beneath Ron’s head, and he lifted his good arm and rubbed at his face, wincing. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice sounding weary. “Feels...weird.”

 

“I’m sorry, Ron,” she apologised, and sniffled, “I-I didn’t mean for this to happen, I didn’t want any of us to get hurt.”

 

“‘S fine,” he murmured in return, and looked at her; his eyes looked tired.

 

“Why did you stop her?” Draco asked after there was silence between them all for a few moments. “From saying the name.”

 

“Feels like a jinx, or somethin’,” Ron said, and closed his eyes over and let out a tired sigh.

 

Harry stood up, and it was only then that Hermione spotted the locket chain hanging from his closed fist. She didn’t even want to look at it, and averted her eyes back up to his face. “We should get the tent set up. You said you packed one, right, Hermione?”

 

Hermione shook her head once to clear her mind, and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Y-Yeah, yeah, I did.”

 

“Give us a hand, Malfoy?” Harry said, and Draco sat up properly.

 

“Sure,” he said, and got to his feet, and the both of them walked over to where Hermione’s beaded bag still lay on the forest floor.

 

Hermione looked back down at Ron and brushed his fringe back from his pale forehead, and bit the inside of her cheek when she glanced down at his healing arm once more. “Once it’s set up, you can lay on one of the bunks, okay?” she whispered, trying to keep her voice soothing. “I’m sorry, Ron…” she apologised again.

 

“Told you ‘s fine,” Ron said, his lips hardly moving as he spoke. “Not your fault. No-one’s…”

 

Hermione kept her hand behind Ron’s head and sat by him protectively, watching Harry and Draco assemble the tent. If they were in any other situation, the scene would have been rather comical. They both bickered back and forth about how they should set up the tent, and she watched as Harry ran his hand through his hair, like he always did when he was frustrated, and saw a redness rise on Draco’s cheeks as he no doubt bit back a number of insults directed towards Harry. 

 

It took several more minutes before the tent was standing, and Harry and Draco walked back over to them. “I’m sorry if we hurt you,” Harry apologised in advance as he leant down and hooked his arms under Ron’s armpits. The redhead winced and let out a hiss through his teeth, but Hermione was quick to hold his injured arm to keep it from flopping down. Draco got the hint quick enough and gathered Ron’s feet up in his hands and lifted, and the injured wizard let out a louder moan of pain as they started to carry him, slowly but surely, towards the tent; Draco walking backwards, still holding his legs, Hermione walking alongside Ron, holding his arm and keeping a close watch on his face, and Harry struggling with the brunt of his weight, also trying not to hurt him too much in the process. Draco backed through the tent flaps first, and they managed to get Ron to the closest bunk-bed and lay him on the bottom bunk, where he let out a sigh of relief, and cracked one eye open to look up at them.

 

“You need to rest,” Hermione said, and busied herself by taking off his shoes. “You...You sleep, and we’ll start...doing something,” she spoke faster than the ideas were coming to her mind. She didn’t know what they were going to do. They had a Horcrux in their possession, but how in Merlin’s name were they going to destroy it? Ron’s eye shut and he let his head relax back on the old bed, and it didn’t take him long to fall asleep.

 

Harry and Draco had both retreated to the small dining table at one side of the tent, Harry sitting at a seat, whereas Draco had perched himself on the edge of the tabletop, with his arms crossed against his front. “He’s going to be alright, yeah?” Harry asked worriedly. She wished she could lift the strain and stress from his back.

 

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t be,” Hermione said, and sat down across from him with a tired sigh. “This whole day was a disaster…” she groaned and slumped down, crossing her arms on the table and resting her head down on them.

 

“Why are you being such a pessimist?” Draco drawled, and she felt his hand settle between her shoulder blades. “We got exactly what we set out to get.”

 

“Yes, and how are we going to destroy it now?” she said in frustration, her voice muffled by her arms. “Ron’s injured, and we can’t go back to the one house we were safe in, all thanks to me. And now we’re staying in the middle of a forest, with no easy access to food, or water, or  _ anything _ .”

 

“Why are we in a forest, anyway?” Harry asked, ignoring her self-deprecation. “I’m not complaining!” he added quickly, holding his hands up in surrender when she lifted her head from her arms and glared at him. “It’s just… a bit of a random place to think to apparate to with seconds notice.”

 

“It was sort of in my mind. My subconscious at least,” she said, dropping her eyes to the table. “I used to visit this forest when I was younger, camping with my parents every few summers. I’ve been thinking about them…” She felt Draco’s hand start to rub her back slowly, soothingly, and his touch  _ did _ help. She felt a little bit of weight leave her shoulders with every slow stroke of his hand. “The Quidditch World Cup was also in this forest,” she added as an afterthought. “Nowhere near where I used to camp. It’s a rather big area.”

 

“The Forest of Dean?” Draco asked, and she looked up to see his brows furrowed.

 

Hermione nodded. “Why?” Harry asked him.

 

“My family have a cabin here. A holiday home. We had it built the moment we found out that the World Cup was coming to England,” he said, the frown on his face never fading. “I don’t know if it’s still here though… I don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”

 

Hermione sat up straighter at the revelation, but what Harry said next made her roll her eyes. “So you weren’t in that ridiculous tent with all the peacocks outside, at the Cup?”

 

Draco gave him a strange look and then let out a laugh and shook his head. “No. Malfoys staying in a tent? Blasphemy…” he joked which made both Hermione and Harry smile, but she saw how forced his own smile was.

 

“Do you know where the cabin would be? From here?” Hermione asked him.

 

“From here? Not a clue. From where the Cup was, then yeah, I do know. But like you said, the forest is bloody huge.”

 

“It’s worth a shot, trying to find it,” Harry said. “I’m sure there’ll be some way we’ll be able to locate it easily.”

 

“We can’t move anywhere while Ron’s still injured. I want him to rest,” she said, looking back over at the bunkbed where Ron was still fast asleep.

 

“Then we wait,” Draco said. “Give him a day or two to be strong enough, then we can start walking around. It’ll be worth our while if we find it, even if it does take a while. There’ll be food, warmth, water,  _ proper beds _ ,” he listed.

 

She looked around the old tent. Fraying, dusty,  _ cold _ … The beds didn’t look like they had miraculously grown comfortable over the years since they’d last stayed in it during the Quidditch World Cup… And staying in a proper structure would be much safer for them than staying in a tent. She looked over to Harry, who seemed to be thinking the same thing. She could tell that they were all sick of the tent already, and they hadn’t even spent more than an hour inside of it.

 

“We’ll wait until Ron’s better, then we can go searching for the cabin,” Hermione said decisively.

 

Harry grinned and stood up from the table, wand in hand, saying that he was going to sit outside for a while and keep watch.

 

“Trying to find this cabin better be worth our while,” Hermione said, looking up at Draco with a smile.

 

He pushed off the table and turned around to face her properly, lips twitching upwards. “It will be,” he said, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. “Trust me,” he added with a wink, and from the way he smirked, it was almost as if he could tell that her heart had skipped several beats.

 

* * *

 

“I hate it,” Hermione said quietly.

 

“That’s a good thing,” Harry said, spinning his wand slowly in his fingers.

 

“Why isn’t there a spell to destroy the bloody thing,” Draco muttered bitterly, and stepped forward from where he stood, and delivered a swift kick to the locket, and it flew from where it had been laying on the ground before them, to a few feet away.

 

The three of them had spent the last forty minutes trying spell after spell, to destroy the locket, or get it open.  _ Nothing  _ had worked, and Hermione had consulted three different spell books that she’d kept in her beaded bag. They’d tried everything from prising the locket open with their fingers, to casting a variety of unlocking charms -- none of which had brought back results.

 

Hermione stood up from the fallen log she’d taken a seat on, and walked over to where Draco had kicked the locket. She picked it up with a slight grimace and held it closer to her face to try and inspect the clasp. There was nothing out of the ordinary with how it looked, but… “Can’t you feel that?” she asked. It was as if the locket had a heartbeat, or maybe it was her own blood running through her veins that she could feel.

 

Harry reached his hand out to take the locket, and was quiet as he concentrated. “That’s definitely the locket…” he said, and then untangled the chain.

 

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, brows furrowed.

 

“We have to keep it safe until we find out how we’re gonna destroy it,” he shrugged, and placed the chain around his neck and dropped the locket behind his shirt. “I’ll go check on Ron. Maybe you guys can sort out some food?”

 

Hermione nodded and walked inside the tent to get her bag and then brought it back to Draco. “I only brought baked beans, but we don’t have a fire…” she said with a frown and sat back down on the log.

 

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes, and she looked up at him to see him holding out his wand. “There’s this beautiful thing you were given when you were eleven, I’m not sure if you remember you own one or not.”

 

Her cheeks flushed slightly and she busied herself with looking in her bag.  _ Why do I always do that?  _ she mentally scolded herself. She reached into her bag and while she was rummaging around for the tins, she watched as Draco wandered to the edge of their wards along the treeline and started to look for sticks to pick up. She smiled as she watched him, doing actual manual labour  _ voluntarily _ . “Having fun?” she called out to him, as he seemed to be inspecting every stick very seriously before picking it up.

 

He looked over his shoulder at her with a smile and then wandered back, dropping the sticks down. “I must have been an explorer in another life,” he joked and crouched down to arrange the sticks.

 

“Or just a caveman,” she teased with a smile.

 

He chuckled and lifted up one stick, pointing it at her. “Watch it,” he threatened playfully and then hit the stick against her knee.

 

“Hey! Don’t bite the hand that feeds you!” she laughed and pulled out a couple of tins and set them on the dirt.

 

“I haven’t bit you!” he laughed and stood up once he’d organised his pile of sticks. “You haven’t asked for it… Yet,” he smirked and sat next to her and gently elbowed her side.

 

“Stop…” she flushed and took her wand out and used it to make a small fire on the sticks.

 

“I’m not doing anything,” he drawled, but as she leaned over, he placed his hand on the small of her back.

 

“ _ Draco _ ,” she hissed and sat up straight and pushed his hand away. He leaned back, laughing, and kept his hands to himself.

 

“Alright, cook us up a feast, Granger,” he waved his hand towards the fire. “I’m expecting Hogwarts-quality meals, here.”

 

“Then you can go find your own bloody food,” she replied, looking over her shoulder at him. “I’m sure there’s a few bushes you can go scavenge in. You were a caveman in your past life, remember?”

 

“ _ Explorer _ ,” he amended, but she shrugged her shoulder, giving him an innocent smile.

 

* * *

 

Hermione breathed quietly through her nose, wanting to hear every single bit of noise that she could. She was beyond paranoid, and every few minutes would hear something from outside that made her tense and try to sit up. Everytime she did, however, Draco wrapped his arms tighter around her and assured her it was only the sounds of nature, and she was just getting scared because it didn’t sound like any noises they normally heard.

 

They were both laying in the only normal bed, while Harry and Ron took the bunkbeds. Ron hadn’t moved since he’d been put there earlier that morning when they’d arrived, and Harry would take the top bunk when he and Draco would swap taking turns sitting outside the tent keeping watch. After their dreary dinner of beans straight from the can, Hermione had stayed outside the tent with Draco, her reading her book, him walking around picking up the odd stone or leaf to inspect. He must have done at least a hundred laps of the space, never seeming to tire of it, always looking out through the woods. He never looked calm, however, and she had ended up asking him to come sit with her, if only to help him relax. She didn’t know how long they had sat leaning against each other before Harry had came outside to tell them he’d take watch for most of the night, and that they could go to bed.

 

There had been almost ten minutes between the time they had gotten into bed, to when Harry had yelled from outside. They’d both rushed out into the freezing night to find Harry sitting with his head between his knees, clutching at his forehead. She’d known what he was experiencing as soon as she’d seen him, and sat by him worriedly, with her hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to come to. Draco stood with his wand clutched tightly in his hands, looking out into the forest rather than down at them. When Harry eventually came around, he had tiredly told them of what he’d seen: Voldemort had found Gregorovitch and killed him, but not before taking a look into his mind, seeing a memory of someone stealing something from the old wand-maker. They’d all been unable to figure out what it had meant, and why Voldemort had killed Gregorovitch, and after some time, Harry had forced her and Draco to go back to bed, insisting that he was fine and he would get them if he saw something else.

 

Back in bed after the incident was where they both were then, and Hermione found it hard to calm her mind down enough to even contemplate going to sleep. The bed they were on was small, and as a result she was cuddled tightly to Draco. Then again, they could have been offered the largest bed in the world, and she still would have stayed firmly tucked against his side, arms around his middle like she did now. His arms kept her grounded, and kept her from spooking herself too much from what she kept hearing outside, and also from what Harry had told them of his vision.

 

Draco rubbed his hand up and down her back slowly, stopping sometimes to trace small circles between her shoulder blades with his fingers, and with every passing second he did that, her mind started to clear. Her head was tucked against his torso, and every so often she would feel him press his lips gently to the top of her head, or to her forehead. She let out a soft breath and turned her head to look at him, chin resting on his chest. “Do you think everything’s going to be okay?” she asked quietly.

 

He furrowed his brows, and slid one hand down her side to rest on her waist. “Of course it is,” he responded, his voice just as soft. “It seems a bit impossible right now, but… We’ll do it.”

 

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and worriedly began to bite, out of habit. “Maybe I should check on Harry, again…” she said, and looked over her shoulder at the tent flap leading outside.

 

“Hey,” Draco said, his voice rather firm. He took her chin with his thumb and forefinger and made her look at him. “You need to sleep,” he told her. “You’re beyond stressed, and you need to stop and take care of yourself. Not everyone else right now.”

 

“But--” she tried to excuse.

 

“No ‘buts’,” he shook his head. “I’m not opposed to using my wand, either,” he said, jokingly, however, as the corner of his lips twisted up into a small smile.

 

She smiled at that, and gave him a smile of her own. “I love you,” she whispered to him and pushed forward to kiss his cheek.

 

“And I love you,” he told her, his hands winding tighter around her middle. “Sleep,” he said, and she rested her head down on his chest. She could hear the steady  _ thump, thump, thump _ of his heart, from where her ear pressed to his t-shirt, and in turn, it made her own heart calm, too. With his arms firmly around her, his heartbeat in her ear, and the soft traces of his fingers on her skin, sleep came much more easily than she anticipated it would, and before long, she fell into a much-needed sleep.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t to anyone’s surprise that eating baked beans for breakfast wasn’t the most enjoyable start to the day. Especially when those eating it were three practically full-grown men, all of whom without food in their stomachs and lacking a restful night of sleep, weren’t the most pleasant people to be around. Hermione had been awake since four in the morning, as Draco had gone outside to keep watch, and she found it too difficult to fall back to sleep in the small bed they’d shared that suddenly felt much too large without him in it.

 

“I buried Moody’s eye,” Harry said, breaking the silence between the four of them as he pushed around the beans inside the can he was holding.

 

“That was good of you, mate,” Ron said with a tired smile. He’d been much better that morning, only complaining that his arm felt tight and uncomfortable rather than painful, which was a relief. “I’m sure he’d prefer it out here rather than stuck on Umbridge’s door.”

 

Hermione agreed with a smile. “That was really thoughtful, Harry.”

 

They all fell into silence once more, and Hermione leaned against Draco, resting her head down on his shoulder. She felt like she’d been awake much longer than she actually had, and knew if she could get back into bed, she’d be able to fall asleep in a heartbeat.

 

“What was the plan, then?” Ron asked. “Have you decided which way we should start walking?” He had been informed about the Malfoy’s cabin being somewhere in the woods, when he’d woken up, and was eager to try and make their way to it as soon as possible, just like the rest of them were.

 

“There’s not really a plan,” Draco replied. “We’ve just got to pick a direction and start walking. Hermione figured that we’d be able to sense where it is.”

 

“You, more so,” Hermione added, looking up at her boyfriend.

 

“Why?” Harry furrowed his brows.

 

“Because I have a connection to the place. It was my family that set up the wards surrounding it. There might be some twinge of familiarity if we get near it,” he said, then added with a shrug, “I hope.”

 

Ron was the one again to break the silence when it stretched for over five minutes. “So can we go?” he asked, and Hermione’s eyes snapped to Harry when he lifted his head quickly and glared at Ron.

 

“Can’t we just think for one second?” he said rather snappishly.

 

“What is there to think about?” Ron responded. “We just pack everything up and get moving.”

 

“It’s a bit more risky than that,” Harry said, and Hermione’s brows furrowed at the tone of his voice. “Besides, it takes a bit of time to just ‘pack up’,” he said, and Ron stiffened in self-defence.

 

“It’s not my fault I can’t help you. I want to, but my arm’s in a bloody sling in case you haven’t noticed!”

 

“That’s convenient,” Harry muttered.

 

“What’s that supposed to mea--”

 

“Enough!” Hermione stood up from the log and eyed both boys several seconds when they turned to look at her. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out why Harry was acting so uncharacteristically. She stepped towards him and held her hand out. “Take it off,” she said firmly.

 

“ _ What _ ?” Harry looked at her hand, then at her face as if she’d asked the most inane question possible.

 

“The locket!” she snapped and kept her hand outstretched. “You’re still wearing the horcrux!” Harry pulled at the chain around his neck and yanked it off, and the reaction was instant, she could practically see the stress and tension leave his body. She took a hold of the locket and looked at him. “Better?”

 

He paused, seeming to realise how his behaviour had been. “Yeah,” he said quietly, and scratched the nape of his neck.

 

“You don’t think you’ve been possessed or something?” Draco asked, having watched the interaction with a look of concern.

 

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I remember everything that I’ve done since I’ve had it on. Ginny told me that when she was possessed, she couldn’t remember most things that had happened…” The mention of the youngest Weasley sobered the three Gryffindors, especially Harry who seemed to lose his train of thought.

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t wear the locket,” Hermione said after a few seconds, and stared down at the horcrux that lay in her palm. “We can keep it in the tent when it’s set up, and in my bag when we’re walking.”

 

“No,” Harry said definitively. “If we lose it, or it gets stolen, then what are we going to do?”

  
“Alright, alright,” Hermione muttered, and stared at the locket for a few moments longer before she placed the chain around her neck and tucked the locket under her shirt. At once, a chill ran through her body and it was clear to feel the evilness that lay trapped inside the metal.

 

She stared down at the ground before watching Harry as he walked to the tent and entered, Ron soon following him. “You okay?” Draco asked her, his voice breaking her from her thoughts.

 

Instead of answering, she just nodded, and brushed her hair back from her face, trying to ignore the feeling that the horcrux gave her against her chest: the ticking irregular against her own heartbeat.

 

* * *

 

The tent had been packed up and all four of them had started walking around an hour after the horcrux debacle. It had been decided unanimously that as soon as it even hinted at getting dark, they would stop walking and set up their tent once more. They weren’t naive enough to believe that they would find the cabin on their first trek, and it was a good thing none of them had any high hopes about finding anything, because as soon as night fell, they had to stop and set up camp.

 

Hermione’s pessimism had been much more prominent throughout their walk, than the boys’. She had frequently spoken her mind about how she believed they’d been walking in circles, regardless of the fact the  _ Point Me _ spell that Draco cast every so often proved her wrong. She’d also snapped at all of them several times; Ron for scuffing his feet, Harry for walking too far ahead of them, and Draco for proving her wrong with the directional spell. As soon as they had set up their camp, the locket had been taken off of her by Draco and placed around his own neck, and while he gathered sticks to start a fire for dinner, Hermione and Harry started to construct their wards again. She knew exactly how Harry had felt the moment the horcrux had been taken off of him. It felt like a coldness left her body, and that there was no longer a heaviness pushing against her insides. The place on her chest where the locket had lay against her skin, however, had remained cold despite the fact that she’d been rather hot and sweaty for the entirety of their walk.

 

Not wanting to hear complaints about dinner, she had managed to scavenge around and found several wild mushrooms which she cooked alongside the baked beans. The result however, looked like something even an animal that lived in the forest would refuse. They’d struggled to finish their food, but knew they had to have something in their stomachs, and Harry volunteered to take the first watch of the night after they had cleaned up from dinner.

 

Trying to get comfortable next to Draco in bed had been a nightmare. Everytime she got close to him, he made a noise of annoyance, and when she had wrapped her arm around his middle, wanting to feel the same safety and security she had the night before, he had pushed her arm away. That had made her snap, sitting up in bed, and she practically yanked the locket chain from around his neck and stormed over to Ron and Harry’s bunk.

 

“ _ Take it _ ,” she snapped and dropped the horrendous thing next to Ron, and then went back to Draco.

 

* * *

 

 

Tension had been growing quickly between Hermione, Ron, Harry and Draco. Now, with the horcrux being handed between them (every four hours, it had been decided), tempers were high and patience was thin. Things got particularly hard to control whenever Ron or Draco had to wear the locket, as they were more prone to snapping -- mostly at each other --, and over the next two days of walking, there had been more than a handful of arguments that Hermione wished she hadn’t been around to hear. Though, she was sure that if she  _ hadn’t _ been there to break them up, their fights wouldn’t have started and ended only verbally.

 

The two days passed extremely slowly. They walked from the moment they disassembled their tent, to the moment it started to get dark. Her legs burned every morning that they started up once more, through endless forest that all looked the same, getting scratched by branches and twigs, and spiky bushes, tripping on rocks and small holes in the ground, and having a terrible time on top of it all thanks to either wearing the Horcrux, or the attitude of whoever was wearing it.

 

So when the time came, on the third night they would have been forced to set up camp, that Draco stopped dead in his tracks and looked around, she had felt like jumping for joy. “It’s here,” was all he’d said as he raised his wand and looked around.

 

“You’re sure?” Harry asked, his eyes bright with excitement as he looked around too. None of them could see anything, of course. The wards were strong, but her theory had prevailed: Draco could feel them.

 

“Can you disassemble a part of it?” Hermione asked, stepping closer to him, placing her hand on his arm. “Remember what I taught you about wards.”

 

“I think I can,” Draco nodded and looked at the three of them before turning back to where the ward began, and started to slowly move his wand as he spoke...

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

He didn’t know how to place the odd feeling that came with being able to take down a piece of the ward that guarded his family cabin. It didn’t surprise him that he could do it, as Hermione had been an excellent teacher to him during the time they’d stayed at his Aunt and Uncle’s house, and then again in Grimmauld Place. He looked back at her and Harry and Ron when part of the ward had been exposed and it was clear to see the magnificent looking cabin standing a few hundred metres up the slight rise of the ground.

 

He’d started to grin, and stepped forward to the cabin, but his sense of achievement and pride was replaced instantly for fear when he saw two figures start running from the cabin, straight towards them. Draco raised his wand, as did the other three, but they all stepped backwards away from the people quickly advancing towards them.

 

“What do we do?” Ron asked, panicked.

 

“Wait!” Harry said quickly and held up his hand and lowered his wand.

 

“Harry what are you doing?!” Hermione exclaimed loudly and tried to grab him, but he stepped forward.

 

“It’s Remus and Kingsley!” he said, and before any of them could stop him, he began to run forward.

 

Draco reached out to grab a hold of Hermione’s arm, but she pushed him off. “We need to go too,” she told him, and started to follow Harry at a run, leaving Draco and Ron bringing up the rear.

 

“Stop!” Remus shouted at them, and all four of them halted at once. “Step forward, Harry,” he demanded, keeping his wand pointed at them, as did Kingsley. Harry did as he was told, with his wand lowered to his side, and Draco thought he was completely mental for trusting the two men until they asked him a security question which he answered correctly, and asked them one back. There was a collective sigh of relief from Draco, Hermione and Ron when they found out that it was in fact Kingsley and Remus, not imposters. They were all asked security questions too, just as Harry had been, and when it was settled that they were in fact the real thing, they were told to go to the house.

 

Draco looked up at the cabin and spotted figures by the door… His mother! And Andromeda! His tiredness disappeared, replaced with eagerness to get to his family, and he was just about to follow Hermione when he was stopped.

 

“Draco, wait…” Remus said, and reached his arm out to place his hand on Draco’s shoulder. He didn’t flinch, but stiffened under the wizard’s touch, and reluctantly met his eye. He hadn’t forgotten about the accusations Remus had hurled at him the night they had brought Harry back from Privet Drive, nor had he forgotten how the man had wanted to run out on a pregnant Tonks to go on a mission he wouldn’t know anything about.

 

“We should go to the cabin,” Draco muttered, making up an excuse, and tried to walk forward, but the wizard’s hand tightened slightly on his shoulders.

 

“I need to apologise,” Remus said, moving to stand in front of Draco.

 

“Whatever,” Draco muttered, and refused to meet his eye, instead looking past him at the cabin where he could see his mother, Aunt, and now Hermione, waiting by the front door.

 

Remus sighed and dropped his hand from Draco’s shoulder. “You have to know that as soon as I left the Burrow that night, I regretted what I’d said to you. It was unfair of me to assume it was you that betrayed us.”

 

“Yeah, it was,” he said bitterly, and clenched his jaw tightly, staring at him now. “I would have thought _ you _ of all people would be the last one to judge a person’s intentions based on what they have been associated with.”

 

He nodded and ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair, and then put his hands deep in his pockets before speaking again. “That is exactly what I thought after I had left. I should have said something to you at the wedding, too, but by the time I had figured out what to say, well… You know what happened.

 

“I think I should be the one to tell you first and foremost that no-one in the Order believes that you have any lingering affiliation with the Death Eaters. They trust Harry, Ron and Hermione, and in turn, they trust you. My wife has trusted you since you were placed in her mother’s home, even if she didn’t make it noticeable at first.”

 

“The wife you wanted to walk out on,” Draco added, unable to help himself.

 

Remus sighed once more. “Tonks and I are taking a...small break,” he said.

 

“Your idea, or hers?” he narrowed his eyes.

 

“Hers,” Remus replied.

 

“Good.”

 

The wizard chuckled softly and shook his head once. “I have to agree. After I left Grimmauld Place I went to her and told her everything that had happened. She’s been staying with Andromeda and Ted while she figures out how to truly get her anger out at me.”

 

Although he wanted to stay angry and serious, Draco couldn’t stop the small smirk from appearing on his face. Despite the surname that his cousin went by, she had the Black temperment through and through. “I hope she thinks of something good,” he said, looking Remus in the eye. “It doesn’t matter whatever the fuck you turn into once a month, it’s no excuse to leave your wife and your future  _ child _ to live without you. The last thing any kid needs is to grow up thinking that their dad didn’t want them--”

 

“It wasn’t that I didn’t wan--”

 

“ _ They’ll think that _ ,” Draco snapped, cutting him off. “They’re not going to think that you left because it was for their benefit. They’ll think it was  _ their _ fault, and they’ll always have that hanging over them. No matter what anyone tells them or whatever proof there is.” He finished, breathing heavily and mentally cursed himself for letting so much out and exposing himself as he had just done. He knew that Remus wasn’t stupid, and knew that he’d understand straight away that Draco’s anger didn’t  _ just _ come from what had happened with Tonks.

 

“I’m going to be there for my child,” Remus said quietly. “I won’t ever leave them, and I hate myself to even think that it was best if I did. You can count on the fact that I’ll be the best father that I possibly can be… To  _ your _ new cousin.”

 

Draco clenched his jaw as he stared down at the ground between them, and he nodded his head once. He hated exposing himself in front of anyone who wasn’t Hermione, and he hadn’t really spoken as much to her about the issues he still had with his father. But Remus could tell.

 

“Come on. I bet you guys are starving,” Remus broke the silence and reached out to put his hand on Draco’s shoulder, but this time it was soft, and friendly. He gave it a gentle squeeze and then let go, and they both walked side by side up to the house.

 

“I know I am,” he said after a few steps, wanting to change the subject before they reached the cabin. He would tell Hermione what had happened, just not tonight. “Hermione only packed tins of beans.”

 

Remus laughed at that. “You’ll be glad you found us here, then.”

 

Draco gave a half-smile, and then looked towards the cabin where Hermione and his mother still stood by the door. He watched his mum raise her hand slightly, waving once before dropping her arm, clenching her hands together. “Really glad…” he said softly, and his smile grew.


	44. Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me. Sorry about the super late update; life has been hectic for the past month and i'm moving in a few days but hopefully this makes up for it! thanks for continuing to read and leave comments and being patient! :)

**Hermione**

 

This is what they knew: 

 

The war had gotten off to a bad start for the Order of the Phoenix. Though they knew that apparently there was a high possibility members of the Ministry were under the Imperius Curse, they hadn’t expected the Ministry to fall so soon. With the attack on not only the Weasley house the night of the wedding, but also on several safe houses, the Order had gotten off to a rocky start. 

 

They knew Lucius Malfoy was missing, causing a quarrel between Draco and Narcissa. The latter had apparently not mentioned this tidbit of information when they had talked privately the night before. It had taken Hermione a moment to calm Draco down, while Andromeda whispered something to Narcissa. Hermione had hoped to see a trace of hope or determination on Narcissa’s face, but all she saw was doubt. Draco had pointed out that if Lucius  _ was  _ alive, he would have come to this cabin. 

 

“It’s possible he’s still trying to find his way,” Remus countered calmly, his palms pressed against the table as he stood before them all. “We mustn’t jump to conclusions.”

 

Draco, who seemed to have nothing to retort, sank back in his chair with a disgruntled look on his face. Hermione slipped her hand into his, giving it a squeeze. After the tension blew over, they were given a list of safe houses (which they were supposed to destroy immediately upon memorising), and told to avoid saying Voldemort’s name as it was now a taboo. 

 

“Told you it felt like a jinx,” she heard Ron mutter to Harry, who rolled his eyes. 

 

“Now, we come to you four,” Remus said, pointing out the four of them among the table.

 

Hermione glanced at Harry from where he sat across the large, round table. She could tell from his tense jaw, his narrowed eyes, and arms folded tightly across his chest, that he wasn’t looking forward to this part. Harry had been serious about doing this mission alone, well, without the assistance of the Order. Hell, Hermione knew that if Harry had truly had his way, he would be doing this  _ completely _ alone. However, in this case, she rather agreed with Harry in that the Order should be kept in the dark. The fact that she, Ron and Draco knew about the mission was risky enough. Not that any of them would voluntarily give up that information, but there were other means of getting the details you wanted from someone…

 

When none of them spoke, Remus pressed on. “After you all arrived and went to bed last night, we all talked and came up with a proposition for you.” 

 

Both she and Harry raised their eyebrows at this, finally locking gazes. Clearly, neither of them had expected this. He cocked his head at her slightly and she inclined her head towards Remus. Ron looked slightly confused, but was listening intently nonetheless, while Draco looked just as suspicious as her and Harry. 

 

“You’ve made it clear that you wish to keep this mission Dumbledore gave you a secret,” Remus said slowly and clearly. “We respect that, and we will continue to do so long as you agree to two things.” 

 

“Let’s hear it, then,” Harry said, wriggling in his chair and scratching a spot on his nose. His tone was riddled with impatience, not bothering to hide the fact that he didn’t want this meeting even taking place. While they were grateful for proper protection, they still wanted to be left to their own devices -- Harry especially. 

 

Remus glanced over at Tonks who gave him an encouraging smile, then at Kingsley, who nodded once. “We understand that you will need to leave this cabin to pursue your mission, however -- and I cannot express how important this is Harry -- we ask that you always come back to a safe house afterwards. We understand that in certain situations you may not want to risk coming back here, that’s why we have enclosed to the four of you, the locations of a few other safe house locations that you may go to. But you must always return to one, Harry. 

 

“Secondly, it would make us feel much better if we were able to communicate with you while you’re gone. Patronus messages work, but are sometimes too risky. If we can all come up with a way to communicate discretely, we think that would be best. Can you agree to these terms?” 

 

“What happens if we don’t agree?” Harry asked straight away, challenging their old professor with a determined stare.

 

“Harry!” Hermione scolded with a hiss. 

 

“I just want to know what their plan is,” he said calmly, his gaze still fixed on Remus. “If they’re going to chuck us out or not.” 

 

Hermione fell quiet when she realised that thought hadn’t crossed her mind. But would Narcissa really let the Order kick out her son over this? 

 

To her surprise, Remus chuckled and shook his head. “Harry, have you forgotten who my best friends were? And that I taught you for a year? I know there is no stopping you. You are as headstrong as both James and Lily. Regardless of whether you agree or not, the four of you will have a place to stay. It would be extremely wise on your part, and your friends, to accept our terms. We only want to help; to be there if you’re ever in an emergency. You will still have the privacy you desire.” 

 

She watched Harry grind his jaw, the wheels in his head turning. 

 

“Alright,” he said conclusively after locking eyes with the three of them; Draco, Ron, and herself. “We’re, erm, in a bit of a snag with our mission, so some of us can focus on finding a way to communicate and some of us can keep working on what we need to figure out.”

 

Remus nodded, a small smile on his face. “Right then, good. For now, I suppose, you should each make sure you know how to send Patronus messages,” he paused for a moment, turning to look at Kingsley. “Anything to add, Kingsley?” 

 

The older wizard shook his head. “No,” he said in his deep voice. “You’ve already told them everything we know.” 

 

“Meeting dismissed, then,” Remus said, pushing back his chair. 

 

There was more scraping of wood against wood as the rest of them rose from their seats; the large group breaking off into smaller ones. Hermione saw Kingsley say goodbye to Remus and Tonks before heading for the front door. Narcissa and Andromeda were retreating into the living room, while the remaining Order members huddled together. Her eyes fell to Harry and Ron who were heading towards her when she felt a poke in her side. 

 

Hermione turned her to head to see Draco standing before her, hands shoved in his pockets and a troubled look on his face. “We have a slight problem,” he said in a low voice so that no one could overhear. 

 

She frowned, unsure of what exactly he was referring to. “What is it?”

 

“I never learned how to perform the Patronus Charm.” 

 

* * *

 

It was unusually windy for a mid-September night. The windows had been rattling for hours now, forcing Hermione, Draco, Ron and Harry to set up camp in the living room in front of the roaring fire. The elder Order Members had gone to bed not long ago, and the four of them had waited until the cabin was completely silent before retreating to the living room. Hermione had whipped up four hot chocolates with a few flicks of her wand, and after receiving three impressed looks, explained that Andromeda had been teaching her a few things. 

 

“I figured maybe it would help the next time we’re forced to camp out in the wilderness,” she said with a shrug. 

 

“You mean we could have something besides beans and mushrooms?” Ron chimed after sipping his hot chocolate. 

 

Hermione scowled at him briefly before pulling over a rather large and weathered looking book. “Perhaps,” she muttered. 

 

The four of them easily slipped into their work, even Harry and Ron. Hermione and Harry were on Horcrux duty, while Draco and Ron were assigned to their communication problem. The fire bathed them in a warm, orange glow as the four of them discussed possible locations of the other Horcruxes and methods for communication in hushed tones, sipping their hot chocolates all the while. It wasn’t until the whispers between Draco and Ron grew louder that Ron let out a frustrated growl and turned to Hermione. 

 

“Hermione,” he said almost pleadingly. “Those coins we used for the Dumbledore’s Army, in fifth year, we could use those to communicate with the Order, right?” 

 

Putting the book down gently, Hermione looked at the pair of them with her brows furrowed, already deep in thought. “Well,” she said slowly. “I can’t see why we couldn’t. Umbridge never caught on to them. That...just might work, Ron.” 

 

Ron smiled smugly while Draco rolled his eyes, throwing down the bits of parchment he’d been going over. “Told you,” Ron snapped at the blond. 

 

“I never said it  _ wouldn’t  _ work,” Draco retorted scathingly. “I just suggested that we should explore our other options first before proceeding with a complicated method.” 

 

“But we know the coins will work,” the redhead argued. “Why bother with the other options?” 

 

“Draco’s right, Ron,” she interjected before Draco could answer. “If there’s another way that’s much less complicated, but still just as effective, it’s worth looking into.” 

 

Ron scoffed, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his palms. “Of course you’re taking his side,” he muttered. 

 

Before Hermione could retort, Harry had stood up from beside her, walked over to Ron and removed something from around his neck.  _ Of course,  _ she thought as she saw the locket come into her view. Ron had put it on not long after dinner, and it was nearly eleven o’clock. 

 

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly as Harry sat back down after placing the locket around his own neck. Ron then lifted his head to look at Draco and Hermione, his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “Sorry.” 

 

She gave Ron a pointed look to let him know she didn’t approve of his little outbursts, even if he was wearing the Horcrux. “It’s all right,” she said after a moment. “We just need to stay focused, okay?” 

 

Ron nodded sheepishly, and returned to nearly inaudible whispers with Draco while she and Harry turned their attention back to their list of possible locations for the other Horcruxes. Harry was already insisting they check Godric’s Hollow, but it seemed too dangerous to her. Deep down she knew, though, that there would come a day during this journey where they would have to go back to Harry’s childhood home. In the meantime, she picked away at his brain about other places Voldemort could have hidden the Horcrux and have even suggested that Voldemort had perhaps hidden some of them in places like forests or natural bodies of water. 

 

She did not notice however, that at this point, the conversation between Draco and Ron had died and both boys were now listening to her ramble on to Harry. 

 

“I mean, it’s what I would do,” she explained after Harry shot her a look of bewilderment. “The purpose is to keep them safe, yes? So if you hide them in places that would make it nearly impossible for someone else to find, it makes you harder to defeat. And if he would have used common objects, that would  _ really  _ make it difficult for someone to--”

 

“Hermione,” Harry said sharply. “This isn’t making me feel any better.” 

 

She fell quiet at the queasiness evident on his face. “Sorry,” muttered. “I just--I don’t think we should go to Godric’s Hollow yet. Besides, you said so yourself that V-- _ He  _ wouldn’t use common objects or hide them in meaningless places. That’s a  _ good  _ thing, Harry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone on like that.” 

 

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. She could practically hear the gears in his head turning; he was thinking again. 

 

Hermione looked over at Draco, who was now looking out the front window, squinting at the darkness. She let out an inaudible sigh and set down the book she’d been skimming through beside her. Ever since the news of his father, Draco had developed a habit of staring out the windows, circling the perimeter of the wards or listening for any sound that might indicate his father’s arrival. In truth, she was waiting for it too. It was perfectly reasonable that after escaping the Order’s custody, he’d put a great distance between himself and Great Britain. Lucius could be hiding somewhere in Europe, waiting for the perfect chance to sneak back into the area and find his family. 

 

“Draco,” she said as she sat beside him after asking Ron for a moment alone with him. “You won’t be able to see him in this weather.” 

 

Since their arrival to the living room, a heavy rain had started to fall. Between the trees whipping back and forth in the wind, and the rain slashing against the windows, it was impossible to see anything in the darkness. Draco sighed as he pulled her to his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

 

“I know,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I know.” 

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

“Why does Hermione want you to be the one to teach me again?” Draco drawled, dreading the next hour that he was going to spend in the den with Potter. It wasn’t that he hated being in his presence, but learning this spell meant being vulnerable. He  _ hated  _ feeling vulnerable, especially in front of Potter. 

 

Harry rolled his eyes; he didn’t look to keen about it either and Draco suspected he’d much rather be focusing his time and effort on figuring out how to destroy a Horcrux. But Hermione was currently researching the subject, and there wasn’t much for Harry to do with the problem at hand. So here they were, in the den and standing in the middle of the room. 

 

“She says it’s the only spell I’m better at than she is,” Harry replied with a chuckle. “Never thought she’d actually admit it, but…” he trailed off and inhaled deeply. “Right, so the Patronus charm requires concentration. You need to pick a strong happy memory, and concentrate on that feeling. That happiness.” 

 

At these words, Draco’s insides began to squirm. He was  _ completely  _ out of his element here. His mother had taught him Occlumency during his years at Hogwarts, and if he dared say so himself, he was almost as good as her. Tucking away memories, and compartmentalising his feelings and thoughts was like breathing to him. Rarely ever did he let his emotions get the best of him, nor did he sit and wallow in them either. Except for this past year of course, when he had started ripping at the seams. Now though, it was starting to get easier again. Wearing the Horcrux made it slightly more difficult, but it was almost nothing compared to how he had felt in the past year. 

 

Being in this position now, being forced to open up the boxes stacked neatly in his mind, made him feel a bit queasy. His heart rate had definitely quickened. “Right,” he said quietly. 

 

“It’s a difficult charm to perform,” Harry said slowly. “So don’t expect too much of yourself the first time.” 

 

Draco turned his head slightly to look at Potter, who was watching him carefully. “How long did it take you to produce a Patronus?”

 

To his surprise, Harry smiled. “I learned the charm by performing it against a boggart disguised as a Dementor during a few private lessons with Remus. I didn’t produce a corporeal Patronus until the end of third year when--” he paused, swallowed and took a breath, “--when I had to rescue Sirius from the Dementors.” He paused before speaking again, “It took Hermione a few D.A. meetings to master the Patronus Charm, you know.” While Draco did find this piece of information a shock, what he found more surprising was the fact that Harry was trying to  _ comfort  _ him. 

 

“Potter,” he said impatiently. If they were going to do this, he wanted to get right to it. Besides, he hadn’t even had a chance to talk to his mother or aunt yet, and he was eager to talk to them about what had happened after the wedding. 

 

“Right, so raise your wand and get ready,” Harry instructed. “And think of nothing but your memory. Remember, it needs to be a strong one otherwise it won’t work.” 

 

Draco nodded, mimicking Potter’s stance, their wands held out in front of them. Immediately, one particular memory flooded to the forefront of his mind. He could practically hear the bubbling of potions in their cauldrons and the crackle of the fires beneath them. His lips flickered upwards as a warmth began to spread through him. He was almost surprised at how easy it had been, recalling one of the times when he had felt the happiest in his life. But then again, given the memory, he wasn’t really surprised at all. 

 

“Do you have a memory?” Harry asked in a calm voice, so as not to disturb Draco’s state of mind. He nodded, still concentrating hard.  “Good,” Harry said. “This is the wand movement,” Draco watched as he made almost a complete circle with his wand. “And the incantation is  _ Expecto Patronum.”  _

 

“ _ Expecto Patronum, _ ” Draco repeated to himself, keeping the memory clear as day in his mind, and his wand ready. 

 

“On the count of three,” Harry said. “One...two... _ three _ .” 

 

Together, they waved their wands, the sounds of their voices meshing as they performed the charm. Draco, who had never watched a corporeal Patronus burst from the end of a wand before, lost all concentration as Harry’s stag emerged before them. It  _ was  _ a magnificent sight, not that he would admit it out loud. The stag pranced around them before disappearing as it leaped towards the ceiling. 

 

Harry turned to look at him, eyebrows raised when he saw Draco was still standing with his wand in the air, mouth open and no words coming out. 

 

“Sorry,” Draco muttered, shaking his head and re-focusing on his happy memory. He thought of the blush on Hermione’s cheeks and the panic in her eyes as the realisation had hit her too. His lips quirked upwards again, that same warmth spreading to his fingertips. 

 

“Let’s go again,” Harry said calmly, raising his wand once more. 

 

As they waved their wands and cried, “Expecto Patronum” Draco forced himself to picture that particular potion’s class. The fumes of the Amortentia filling his nostrils, making everything seem hazy and his mind fuzzy. 

 

A small, silver cloud erupted from the tip of his wand, lingered for a few seconds, then dissipated in the air. Draco had been so pleased with himself that he lost his concentration. Harry looked at him, eyebrows raised and seemingly impressed. 

 

“I didn’t expect you to produce anything your first time,” Harry explained when Draco shot him a questioning look. “Like I said, it’s a difficult charm.” 

 

“You weren’t kidding,” Draco replied dryly. After that first attempt, he noticed that he felt a little drained. His body felt heavier, and all he wanted was to lay on the couch behind them. 

 

“Want to try again?” Harry asked after Draco had sat down on the couch and rested for a minute or two. 

 

“I probably should, shouldn’t I?” he said, making to stand up again and ready his wand. If he was going to be traveling with the three of them, there was a chance he’d need to send a message to the Order. If he couldn’t learn to produce a Patronus, the consequences could be fatal. 

 

Harry nodded in agreement and so for the next hour, Draco practiced the Patronus Charm. He  _ thought  _ he was concentrating hard enough on his memory, but try after try all he managed to produce was the same wispy, silver blue cloud. There were a few times when the size of the cloud grew but he couldn’t even make out an outline of any sort of animal. After another thirty minutes of practicing he threw his wand at the couch in frustration, and immediately flew into a panic when it ricocheted off the cushions and onto the floor. His wand was still in one piece, mercifully, and it was then that Harry suggested they take a break. 

 

Reluctantly, Draco sat down on the couch and set down his wand beside him. They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry spoke, the question catching Draco completely off guard. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what memory did you pick? Sometimes you think you’ve picked a strong memory but you haven’t,” Harry asked, spinning his wand in his hand so as to avoid looking directly at Draco. “That’s what happened my first time.”

 

“Do you remember the potions lesson when we brewed Amortentia?” he said, rubbing his hands together. If he wasn’t okay with Hermione knowing all of this, he wouldn’t be telling Potter. But as it were, he had no problem with Hermione knowing that the happiest moment for him this far involved her. 

 

Harry nodded, scrunching his features. Draco couldn’t stop the heat that was now rushing to his face and neck. 

 

“We realised we had feelings for one another that day,” Draco explained. “It was at the end of the lesson, when we had tell our partners what we smelled. Neither of us could get out of there faster that day,” he chuckled to himself, then fell silent for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that happy, Potter,” he said quietly, the memory rushing back clear as day once again. 

 

He saw Harry nod out of the corner of his eye, still twirling his wand between his fingers. 

 

“You really love her, don’t you?” Harry said after clearing his throat. 

 

“Yes,” he responded, without missing a beat. “More than I can comprehend sometimes, if I’m being honest.” 

 

Harry snorted and shook his head. “I know what you mean.” 

 

Draco knew who he was referring to. Hermione had filled him in one night, giving him a brief history of Harry and Ginny’s short relationship. He hadn’t told Hermione, but he felt bad for Potter. If he and Hermione had to be separated during these times, he’d be worried sick. An awkward silence fell over them, the fire still crackling in the background. Draco’s insides were squirming again. Never did he think that he would be sitting here talking about relationships and feelings with the boy he had antagonised for years. 

 

“We should get back to practicing,” Harry said, standing up again. 

 

“Yeah,” Draco said, grabbing his wand and following suit. 

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

“Are you sure you want to learn?” Draco asked as they entered the den. 

 

“Yes,” she said firmly, though her knees were shaking slightly. She’d first asked Draco to teach her Occlumency a few days after they’d arrived at the cabin. Andromeda and Ted had already been tortured, and she just feared that if they were ever captured… Well, it was better safe than sorry. They’d both gotten preoccupied with other tasks, but today, they finally had the opportunity. 

 

Draco led her to the couch and sat down, turning his body so that he sat facing her. She followed his suit with her wand still clenched in one hand. 

 

“I just want you to focus on emptying your mind today,” he instructed, taking her wand from her hand setting it on the couch. She nodded, trying to keep her nerves at bay. What if she couldn’t get the hang of this? 

 

“Now close your eyes,” Draco said, his voice soft and gentle. Hermione did as instructed. “Good,” she heard him say. “Now you need to empty your mind of all emotion...worry...thoughts…” 

 

They sat in silence while she tried to push away her worries about their Horcrux hunt, the painful reminders that her parents were in Australia with no idea of who she was or that she even existed, and the anxiety that had settled in her stomach when Draco asked her to do her first lesson earlier today. Without even realising, she’d begun to take deep breaths, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. Slowly but surely, as the seconds passed and her thoughts zeroed in on her breathing, she felt her mind begin to calm. 

 

Her lips began to stretch into a smile as she continued focusing on nothing but her breathing. She listened closely to each breath, felt the air leave her lungs…

 

“Hermione,” Draco said, placing a hand on her knee. “Don’t lose your concentration all right? I’m going to perform Legilimency on you now. If your mind is still empty, I won’t see anything.” 

 

She nodded blindly, not wanting to open her eyes. She was afraid if she did, she’d lose her focus completely. With all of her attention still on her breathing, she heard Draco mutter, “ _ Legilimens.”  _

 

In a matter of a second, it felt like an invisible force was attempting to enter her mind. There was a pressure building against her skull, so painfully sharp and consistent she couldn’t help but cry out. The shocking pain blew her concentration completely. Her thoughts and daily worries came rushing back in an instant, but just as suddenly as the pain started, it faded away. Finally opening her eyes, Hermione saw Draco leaning away from her. His eyes were wide with panic at first, but when she made no further sound and instead sank back into the couch, his features relaxed. 

 

“A little warning would have been nice,” she said bitterly. There was still a dull pounding in her head, and the shock was still wearing off. 

 

“You would have worried,” he countered. “If you worry you break your concentration.”

 

Hermione turned to glare at him. “I just lost my concentration because I wasn’t expecting it! I need to be  _ prepared. _ ” 

 

“And now you will be,” he said calmly. “It happens every time, just so you know.” 

 

“Thanks,” she muttered, making a note of it in her mind. “Really,” she insisted when he looked unconvinced. “The enemy isn’t going to give me a warning before trying to penetrate my mind.” 

 

Draco nodded solemnly. “You’re right, they won’t.” 

 

She let out a sigh before scooting closer to Draco. “My head hurts now,” she told him. 

 

“That’s normal,” he said. “Perhaps we should give it a rest for today, though.” 

 

“Agreed,” she said with an eager nod. Flashbacks of Harry returning from Snape’s dungeon office with a blistering headache came rushing to her mind, triggering a rush of guilt to the pit of her stomach. Looking back now, perhaps she should have laid off him a bit. 

 

Draco stood from the couch, pulling her up with him and draped an arm over her shoulders. “Come on,” he murmured in her ear. “I’m sure we can sneak off to one of the bathrooms and have a hot bath.”

 

Her interest peaked, Hermione looked up at him with raised eyebrows and a playful smirk on her lips. “That sounds absolutely  _ wonderful  _ right now.” 

As they left the den, Hermione could think of nothing but sinking beneath the hot water with Draco and forgetting all about her worries. 

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

He’d been racking his brain ever since he spotted the calendar in the living room that morning. Hermione’s birthday was in  _ four  _ days, and he had only just now realised it was even approaching. He should have started planning something at least a week ago. But instead, here he was, sitting at the kitchen table with his third cup of coffee in front of him. Normally, he didn’t drink coffee much but he was hoping the caffeine would give him the boost he needed to think of the perfect idea. Of course he knew there wasn’t much they could do, they were in the middle of a bloody war for Salazar’s sake, but they’d celebrated Harry’s birthday well enough, hadn’t they? 

 

From a distance he could hear footsteps approaching. Whirling around in his chair he could see Potter and Weasley approaching, hair still tousled and shirts still wrinkled. Draco scrunched his features, turning back around in his chair. If he’d ever come down for breakfast like  _ that,  _ he would have been sent straight back to his room to change. Regardless of their carelessness, he needed to speak with them. They were Hermione’s best friends. Surely, they would have an idea. 

 

“All I’m saying is, we’re already staying here and if the Order needs our help, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t,” he heard Ron say as the two boys entered the kitchen. 

 

Before their conversation could continue, Draco butted in. “Potter, Weasley,” he said, his voice hoarse from lack of use. 

 

Both boys turned at the sound of their names, and judging by the looks on their faces they hadn’t seen him when they came in. 

 

“I need to talk to you,” he said, standing up now and walking over to them. He didn’t want to talk too loud in case Hermione wasn’t far behind the pair of them. “Hermione’s birthday is in four days and I need...help planning something,” he winced at the last three words. The last thing he wanted to do was ask for Potter and Weasley’s help. 

 

Harry and Ron looked at one another, looking just as clueless as Draco felt. For a moment, he thought he’d just wasted thirty seconds explaining his predicament on the two of them. If they didn’t know what to do, he’d have to go to his aunt or his mother. He didn’t necessarily want to do that either. 

 

“Well,” Harry said after a moment of staring silently at Ron. “We could have a dinner like we did for my birthday. Invite as much of the Order over as we can, Ron’s family included. She’d like that, I think.” 

 

Draco opened his mouth, ready to shoot down whatever idea Potter spewed. But when the words actually registered with him, he found himself closing his mouth and nodding silently. 

 

“Right,” he said after several long seconds of silence. “Yeah, all right. Erm, I’ll talk to Andromeda and see if she can get a message out to Remus. I saw him leave earlier this morning.” 

 

“Ask him to contact my mum too, if he can,” Ron called out as he retreated towards the living room. 

 

Draco stopped in his tracks, turning around to look at Ron. “Sure,” he said with a nod before turning back and walking out of the kitchen. 

 

It was odd, really. He never thought he’d be stuck in a safe house during this war and making birthday plans for his girlfriend with the Boy Who Lived and his best friend. Then again, he never expected falling in love with Hermione Granger. He was grateful for it all, he truly was. Just the thought of being stuck in the Manor with his terrified parents and Voldemort gliding about sent a shiver down his spine. No, he wasn’t  _ completely  _ fond of Potter and Weasley but being here was definitely better than the alternative. Besides, plenty of things had already changed. Who was he to say that one day he wouldn’t be friends with the pair of them? 

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

The Malfoys’ cabin came with a back porch, as long as the actual cabin itself, and several feet in width. Small tables and lounge chairs had been placed sparsely along the porch at some point, giving a clear view of the forest and the stars twinkling overhead between the trees. After most of the Order members had gone to bed, she and Draco had slipped off to the back porch with a blanket, some candles and two mugs of hot chocolate. She hadn’t wanted to at first, but now that she was laying on one of the lounge chairs curled up next to Draco, she wasn’t complaining. They sipped their hot chocolate in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of nature and staring out into the darkness. 

 

With the Horcrux sitting heavily around her neck, her thoughts started to wander down a darker path. She sighed, hoping it would release the tightness in her chest, but to no avail. It was the first sound she’d made since they came out here, and it caught Draco’s attention immediately. 

 

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured, pulling her into his side and sliding an arm around her waist. 

 

Now that they had proper food and shelter, the effect of the Horcrux had started to change, at least for her. The four of them didn’t discuss how the locket made them feel, so she couldn’t say the same for them all. 

 

“I love Harry,” she said quietly as she pulled away from Draco’s grasp and sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. “He’s my best friend and more than anyone I know he deserves a quiet, happy life.” 

 

“Okay,” Draco said slowly, sitting up now too and putting an arm around her shoulders. “But?”

 

Hermione glanced at him with her brows furrowed before turning back to stare at the tops of her knees. She hated the emptiness that came with wearing the locket. “But sometimes I imagine what my life might be like if Harry and Ron hadn’t saved me from that troll first year and--”

 

“They saved you from a troll first year?” Draco interrupted, then snorted. “No offence Granger, but you’d probably be dead.” 

 

She scowled at Draco, which wiped the playful smirk from his face. “I’m serious,” she continued. “Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I had never sat down in that compartment six years ago, or if I just kept my nose in my own business--”

 

Before she could continue however, she felt Draco reaching around to the back of her neck and a moment later she felt the weight of the locket leaving her chest. It was like the air had shifted, like a weight had been lifted from her chest. No longer did it feel like she was drowning in her own thoughts and sorrows. 

 

“Listen to me,” Draco said sternly, gripping her by both arms and staring directly into her eyes. “Your friendship with Potter and Weasley…” He paused, looking as though what he was about to say might just kill him. “It’s one of a kind. Do you know how many people would kill for a friendship like the three of you have?” 

 

Hermione looked up at him, stunned into silence. There was a sadness in his voice that was impossible to miss. When she looked up at him, he was smiling at her sadly. She didn’t have to ask, his face said it all. Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment; she felt foolish for thinking such things about her friends. 

 

“Crabbe and Goyle were complete dunderheads,” Draco said with a soft chuckle. “Pansy...she tried, sometimes. She was more interested in dating me back then.” 

 

“What about Blaise and Theo?” she asked. 

 

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he released his grip on her and sank back into the lounge chair. Her hand slipped into his easily, their fingers lacing together. 

 

“I wasn’t really friends with them until fourth year. And by then, I’d grown used to not having anyone my age to talk to. Then sixth year came and well, you know why I couldn’t talk to anyone about what was going on.” She hated the sadness and regret that she heard when he spoke. She opened her mouth to speak, but Draco had already pressed on. “You, Potter and Weasley…” he shook his head, laughing through his nose. “Not everyone has that, Granger.” 

 

The use of her last name brought her back to the present, for images of Draco’s countless theatrical performances and jeers and taunts had come flooding back to her mind. All those years they spent thinking Draco merely hated them, when in reality, it had all stemmed from jealousy. 

 

Hermione took a deep breath, staring out into the darkness before them. “I would have never guessed,” she said quietly. 

 

Draco snorted. “I didn’t exactly express it in the best way, did I?” 

 

“No,” she said with a laugh. “Not in the slightest.” 

 

“I’m sorry about all of that,” he said, his voice riddled with guilt. “The name-calling and the--”

 

“Draco,” she said, cutting him off. “It’s all right. It’s in the past, and there’s nothing either one of us can do about it. So let’s just--”

 

“I was cruel,” he said over her, drowning her out. “I was a prat. A prejudiced, spoiled prat and...I should have never called you a Mudblood.” 

 

Silence fell between them again. She didn’t know what to say, really. They’d never really talked about their past all that much. That’s what war did to people though: made them think. She’d spent countless nights wondering if her parents were safe and happy in Australia, daydreaming about what her life might be like if she wasn’t a witch, or if she’d never went to Hogwarts. Yet at the same time, she was grateful for each day with Draco, Harry and Ron. They’d already lost Mad-Eye, and now Lucius was missing. Any of them could be next. Sometimes it all got too stressful and it was in those moments that she wished everything was different. But down to her core, she loved those three boys with everything in her. They were  _ her _ boys. 

 

It was bizarre looking back at the past six years. She could still picture an eleven year old Draco Malfoy, smug and proud of who he was. Harry, timid yet brave and outgoing at the same time. And Ron, funny but tactless, yet just as loyal as he was now. She could see herself in her first year lessons, hand up in the air, jumping out of her seat. She’d been desperate to fit in back then, to know just as much as those brought up in the Wizarding World. They’d all changed so much over the years. Even over the past few months they’d changed. While the sneaking around at Hogwarts with Draco was arousing at times, it was nice to be able to kiss him or hold his hand when she wanted to now. 

 

“Hermione?” Draco whispered in her ear, pulling her closer to him. 

 

“Hmm?” she said, coming back to the back porch with Draco’s arms around her. 

 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

 

She smiled, turning her head to look up at him. She leaned upwards and placed a chaste kiss on his pink-tinted cheek. “That not all changes are bad. And just because bad things happen, it doesn’t mean good things can’t come from it.” 

 

Draco smiled, returning her kiss with one on her lips. “Barely even your birthday and already getting wise in your old age, Granger.” 

 

Hermione couldn’t help but giggle, but her laughter was smothered when Draco leaned down to kiss her again. His hands came in on either side of her face, holding her firmly as their kiss deepened and his tongue slipped in between her teeth. Her breath caught in her throat as he slid his hands down to wrap around her waist, one hand sliding up her back. It was several minutes of heated snogging later before Draco pulled away, chest heaving slightly, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. 

 

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Hermione Granger,” he said, looking her directly in the eyes as he spoke. “Don’t you ever forget that.” 


	45. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24. Apologies once again for the lateness, but hopefully the chapter was worth the wait! 
> 
> We have a new blog in the making for Unexpected, which you can check out at @unexpectedfic on tumblr. Submit fan art/edits/etc for our fic, ask us questions. Updates for every chapter will be posted there, along with snippets of future chapters. 
> 
> Happy reading!

**Draco**

 

Draco had never previously been as much of a light sleeper as he was these days. The slightest hint of unusual noise around him while he slept, had his eyes cracked open, hand automatically reaching for his wand that he always kept under his pillow overnight -- something he and Hermione had both started doing.

 

This night wasn’t any different.

 

He was having a restless sleep, nervous about Hermione’s birthday in two days and what he could be doing to make it special for her, just as she’d made his birthday special for him. The bedroom they slept in was on the ground floor of the cabin, so when he heard the familiar clicks of the front door’s locks being undone, then the sound of the door opening, combined with the sensation he felt of the wards being quickly taken down and reassembled, he woke quickly and sat up in bed, taking his wand in his hand.

 

“What’s happening?” Hermione asked after she’d been jolted awake and reached for her wand too.

 

“Someone’s coming in,” Draco whispered, and pushed the covers off of them, and slid out of bed. Every afternoon, everyone in the cabin got a run-down on what would be happening the day after in relation to both the Order, and everyone else’s plans should it be necessary to know, and not once had anyone mentioned they would be coming  _ or _ going from the cabin, which was why Draco sprang to action so quickly. The both of them went to their bedroom door, ready to face what was happening on the other side. Draco cracked open the door enough to peer out, wand at the ready, and his brows furrowed when he saw what was going on in the hallway.

 

It hadn’t been some _ one _ entering the cabin, but instead, a great deal of people, who had all piled into the hallway, lead by Remus. Draco pushed the door open the slightest bit more so Hermione could see, and she made a quiet noise of confusion.

 

Uncaring of their night attire -- Hermione in one of his shirts and her own pyjama shorts, himself only in pyjama pants --,  they left the bedroom and stood in the hall.

 

“What’s going on?” Draco asked, wanting to know why a small group of people had decided to congregate there in the middle of the night. “No-one told us there would be anyone coming or going.”

 

The group turned to look at them, and it was then that Draco recognised a few people that he, Hermione, Harry and Ron had been introduced to since they’d arrived at the cabin. He saw Ted come to stand beside Remus, and his uncle gave him and Hermione a smile which calmed Draco’s worry enough; if there was the ability to smile now, something couldn’t be that wrong.

 

“This wasn’t planned,” Remus said as he started to take off his coat. “There was a false trail that lead us to believe there would be an attack on one of our safe houses tonight. We were expecting a large number of Death Eaters to be there, but we only found two. They’d been hiding nearby trying to actually find where the safe house was, through the wards.”

 

Hermione’s fingers, which had been gripping onto the back of Draco’s t-shirt, let go. “So everyone is safe?” she asked.

 

“Safe and sound,” Ted nodded.

 

“It wasn’t a very hard mission,” a familiar voice spoke up and Draco’s brows furrowed.

 

“ _ Ron _ !” Hermione gasped and stepped forward. “What were you doing? Why did you go too?”

 

Ron simply shrugged and showed off a smug smile as he walked forward. Draco didn’t miss the way several Order members looked at him with less than pleasant expressions on their faces.

  
“We’ll be heading off now, Remus,” one member spoke as he took his wand out once more.

  
“Thank you all,” Remus nodded to the small group who all started to leave one by one through the door until only Remus, Ted and Ron were the ones who remained behind.

 

“Why did you go, Ron?” Hermione asked again, her voice full of anger, and Draco thought about reaching out to take her hand and keep her beside him, but decided against it and let her storm forward to the redhead.

 

“I was awake when Remus organised it,” Ron shrugged and then covered his mouth as he yawned.

 

“Do you know how serious that could have been?!” she snapped.

 

“Hermione’s right,” Remus said, and they all looked at him. “If that mission was anything like what we had thought it would be, there could have been a possibility that not all of us would have come back here.”

 

Ron shrugged and brushed off the situation with an air of confidence that made Draco raise an eyebrow. “But we did come back,” he said. “I think I’m going to go to bed,” he concluded and looked at Hermione who still stood in front of him with her hands on her hips, blocking his path. Although she was more than a head shorter than her friend, and he could easily move her out of the way if he wanted to, Draco could see Ron’s eyes dart nervously to her and then to him and back.

 

“We’re not finished talking about this,” Hermione finally said after a couple of tense seconds, and she stepped aside for Ron to move. Without another word to the four of them left in the hallway, he walked up the stairs to his bedroom he was sharing with Harry.

 

Draco, Hermione, Ted and Remus stood in silence for a few moments more until the latter spoke. “He doesn’t understand the severity of it,” he said, his voice quiet so he wouldn’t be heard by anyone other than Hermione and Draco. “This could have been a very eye-opening experience for him, but he’s treated it as an escapade he wants to be the hero of. Don’t give him too much grief for it, Hermione.”

 

Draco snorted and avoided her elbow that aimed towards his stomach. “I can’t promise that I won’t say anything,” she said to Remus and sighed. “I don’t know why he even went with you all. We’ve got...other things to do rather than go out guerilla style in the middle of the night.”

 

Ted smiled and let out a small laugh. “I think we would have had to stun him to make him stay,” he said. “He was determined he was coming with us.”

 

“Ted’s right,” Remus agreed and ran a hand through his hair. “But I’ll agree with Ron on one thing, and that’s that a bed sounds like a very good idea right now.”

 

“Aunt Andromeda and Tonks are here tonight,” Draco told them both. “They decided to stay after dinner.”

 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Ted said and took his coat off and draped it over his arm. “Night, you two, Remus,” he farewelled them and then went upstairs, heading to the bedroom that had become his and Andromeda’s whenever they decided to stay at the cabin.

 

As far as Draco knew, Remus and Tonks had been slowly reconciling throughout the past week, and he could see the hesitance in the man’s stance as he decided where to go for the night. “She’s sleeping in her normal room,” Draco decided to put him out of his misery.

 

That seemed to be all Remus needed, and he said goodnight to them both and walked down the hall to where Tonks was sleeping.

 

“Let’s go back to bed,” Draco prompted Hermione, and took her hand to pull her back into the bedroom. She was tense, he could tell, and she let out a sigh as they got back under the covers. “Don’t stress about it now,” he murmured.

 

“Well it’s too late for that,” she said snippily and he gave her a look. Her brow unfurrowed and her body relaxed against his. “I’m just angry at him.”

 

“I know you are. But it’s three in the morning. Can you resume your anger in the morning?”

 

He felt her laugh silently, and he put his arm tighter around her. “Night,” she told him, but he knew for a fact she stayed up much longer than she should have, and didn’t drift off again until closer to four.

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

Hermione was already in a terrible mood the next morning from her interrupted sleep, so when Ron walked into the dining room with a smug grin on his face, greeting her, Draco and Harry like there wasn’t a care in the world, her anger surged dangerously. She’d told Harry what had happened the night before, when he’d joined her and Draco for breakfast, and he’d been just as angry that Ron had been so foolish to leave on the mission.

 

“Good morning,” Ron said cheerily as he sat down and poured some cereal into the bowl that was waiting for him. No one responded, and Ron scoffed. “What? You can’t  _ still _ be pissed at me!”

 

“Well we are!” Hermione snapped.

 

“ _ We _ ?” he asked.

 

“Yes,  _ we _ ,” she said and looked at Harry.

 

“You shouldn’t have gone,” he said to their friend, who scoffed once more. “Ron, listen! What you did was ridiculous! What if it had been a trap? What if you’d been injured or killed?”

 

“But I  _ didn’t _ .”

 

“That’s not the bloody point,” Draco snapped, looking up from the newspaper. “You could have been. And it’s not a small possibility, it’s a fucking huge one. So get off your high horse, Weasley; stop being a tool.”

 

The tips of Ron’s ears flushed red as he was ganged up on, and he dropped his spoon into the bowl. “I was trying to do something good for the Order! For my family!”

 

Hermione sighed and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “I know, Ron, but...don’t do it in a way that can get you coming back to us in pieces.”

 

“And stop bragging,” Harry tacked on the end. “You’re going to piss everyone else off that actually  _ knows  _ what a war is like.”

 

Ron clenched his jaw and stared down at his bowl. “It's not  _ my  _ fault,” he said.

 

“We know, Ron,” Hermione sighed again. “Just, no more sneaking off on missions, okay?” 

 

The way he looked before he gave her a terse nod, sent a wave of unease into Hermione’s stomach. Surely she should trust he would keep to his word; right?

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

Draco had woken up when the sun had began to shine through the curtains. He’d woken up at what felt like every hour of the night, eager for the morning to come at last. And finally it was here. Ever since he’d realised that Hermione’s birthday was coming up, he’d been stressing over what he could do to make the day special for her. He wanted it to be some kind of normalcy for her in between the shit-storm they were all currently in the middle of. It was difficult to plan what to do when he couldn’t buy her any gifts, it was impossible to know what everyone’s schedules were going to be in advance, and he was fairly positive one of the main things she’d be thinking of on the day, would be the absence of her parents.

 

He couldn’t do anything to fix those concerns, no matter how much he’d wanted to. He’d talked to his aunt two days previous, asking if there was any possibility that he could obtain a gift to give Hermione. There was no way, with the Order strictly prohibited from entering any largely populated area in the community unless it was absolutely necessary. His worries must have been obvious, as just before they had gone to sleep, Hermione had assured him no matter what happened tomorrow, she was going to be happy.

 

Draco was looking at her then with a small smile on his face. She looked so unbelievably peaceful. The stress of the war, researching Horcruxes, communication plans, sometimes combined with wearing the locket, had meant she’d been more tense than usual. It was good to see her without her brows constantly furrowed, a worried look on her face. He reached out and gently brushed his thumb against her lower lip, and her cheek twitched slightly but she continued to sleep.

 

He didn’t want to disturb her sleep, and luckily he didn’t have to, as a few minutes later, she slowly opened her eyes. “Why are you staring at me?” she asked tiredly, her voice croaky from lack of use.

 

“I’m not,” he smirked, and watched her yawn and rub her eyes. “Happy birthday,” he murmured.

 

She gave him a smile and sidled closer to his side, and he wrapped his arm around her. “It feels strange having a birthday right now,” she said.

 

“Hm, I know,” he agreed, having felt that exact feeling on his own birthday. He didn’t want the mood to sour so early in the day, so he changed the subject easily. “So do you feel rejuvenated dating such a young man such as myself at your old age?”

 

She laughed and then leant up on one elbow to look at her. “Oh, it’s time to hear these jokes, is it?” 

 

“Up until my next birthday, yes,” he smirked, and barked out a laugh when she pushed his shoulder and then moved to straddle his waist, leaning down to cup his face in her hands.

 

“I don’t think that’s very fair…”

 

“Too bad,” he drawled.

 

It was hard to tell who leant in for the kiss first… 

 

* * *

 

Draco’s task for the day, assigned to him by Andromeda, was to keep Hermione away from the kitchen at all costs. He knew Hermione wasn’t stupid enough to believe that  _ nothing _ was happening for her birthday, and he knew she was in on the fact that she had to avoid the kitchen.

 

It hadn’t been hard at all to keep her occupied after he’d brought their breakfast to their room to eat. Her curiosity had settled and she’d figured out that he would keep distracting her into doing something else should she even contemplate going near the cooking. Draco and Hermione ended up in the sitting room with Ron and Harry near lunch time, as they had brought out a Wizard’s Chess set they’d found, everyone apparently over their little breakfast-spat the morning before. Both boys hugged her tightly wishing her a happy birthday, then proceeded to beg her to play which she did. Harry gave Draco a subtle thumbs up which made the blond realise they must have been told to keep Hermione occupied too.

 

Draco slipped out of the sitting room and walked down to the kitchen and his eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw what was happening. His aunt, his mother, and  _ Molly Weasley _ were all bustling around in various stages of food preparation, all chatting easily with each other. It was his mum that was the first one to realise he was there, and she gave him a smile and put the bowl down she was mixing something in, and wiped her hands on her apron. Draco didn’t even think his mother had  _ ever _ worn an apron or cooked in a kitchen before -- the scene was completely foreign to him.

 

“Am I...in a different dimension?” Draco asked. Andromeda laughed from where she stood at the stove with Molly.

 

“We’re preparing Hermione’s birthday dinner,” Narcissa sniffed, ignoring his comment. “I’ll be doing the cake.”

 

He looked down at the floor then and gave a crooked smile, “It will be a good night,” he said surely. “Thank you all for doing this.”

 

“Hermione is family,” Molly piped up, turning to look at him, “To all of us,” she added, glancing at Narcissa who had gone back to stirring the cake batter, avoiding looking up - a trait she clearly passed on to Draco.

 

Dinner ended up being delicious. Draco couldn’t stop smiling after seeing Hermione’s grin when he took her to the dining room where everyone was seated around an extended table with a huge dinner laid out with a large cake in the middle. The entire Weasley clan had managed to come over -- bar Percy and Ginny (who couldn’t leave Hogwarts) --, as well as Fleur, Remus, Tonks, and Ted. It took a while before everyone could be seated again to eat, as everyone got up to wish Hermione a happy birthday and give her a hug before letting her take her seat at the head of the table.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered to him when they were finally seated.

 

“What are you thanking me for?” Draco asked with a wry smile.

 

She simply rolled her eyes. “I know you organised all of this,” she gestured at the table. While it was true he’d organised for there to be a dinner and cake made, he hadn’t been the one to get in contact with any of the ‘guests’, but he’d take the credit -- it would score him many brownie points, he was sure.

 

There was a variety of different dishes on offer; he could tell which were made by Mrs Weasley and which were made by Andromeda, as he’d stayed at both of their homes in the past. He wouldn’t ever take a good meal for granted anymore after having stayed in the forest for a few days only a couple of weeks ago.

 

He didn’t really talk throughout the meal, as was normally the case every night. He liked to watch everyone else talk, especially Hermione. This was a night to forget about their tasks, and as such, she laughed and grinned and spoke to everyone at the table, and he could see all her stress melt away. An hour passed and everyone was slowly stopping themselves from having third helpings of the food, and that was the point that Draco realised Hermione’s mood was changing. She hadn’t talked to anyone for a few minutes, and was pushing a stray pea around her plate, looking down at it.

 

“What’s the matter?” he whispered, placing his hand on her knee.

 

She looked at him, taken from her thoughts, and shook her head once. “Just thinking about mum and dad,” she said quietly.

 

He’d almost been waiting the entire day for the moment her happiness would change to guilt, and he hated seeing how it got her down. “It’s not your fault,” he told her, taking her hand under the table to give it a squeeze. “They’re safe. One hundred percent safe.”

 

She didn’t answer, and only nodded, and stood up when Molly did to start clearing up everyone’s plates. “No, no you sit down, you’re not doing chores on your birthday,” the Weasley matriarch said sternly, and then looked at Harry and Ron, who both stopped talking to each other, and the grins dropped from their faces as they stood up reluctantly to help instead. When the three of them came back after cleaning up, Molly walked to the centre of the table and leant over, using her wand to light all eighteen candles on top.

 

Tonks was the first one to start singing -- enthusiastically, at that -- and everyone followed suit, Draco too, with a smile as Hermione’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment when the cake was levitated over to sit in front of her. She didn’t look anyone in the eye as they sang to her, but grinned at him when they’d finished.

 

“Make a wish!” both the twins yelled after everyone had stopped cheering.

 

Draco’s grin grew as he watched her close her eyes and screw up her nose slightly before blowing out the candles. Everyone started to clap again, the twins, Ron and Harry making the most noise, and Draco leant over and wrapped an arm around her. “Happy birthday,” he told her, and kissed her cheek. “I love you,” he said, and watched her smile grow further.

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

Hermione unclenched her jaw and accidentally let out the moan she’d been trying to keep buried down. Her breath came in sharp pants as she let her head fall back to the pillow, her chest rising and falling quickly. Her hands dropped from where they were gripping Draco’s back, and he moved from his position over her, to laying beside her, breathing just as heavily as she was.

 

She turned her head to look at him, and couldn’t stop her grin, and she weakly lifted one hand to cover her mouth when she let out a short, exhausted laugh. He was grinning too, she could feel his lips curl into one when he leaned over to kiss her shoulder. She felt the puffs of his breath against her skin as he chuckled, and her smile grew when he kept moving his lips down to her breast.

 

“Again?” she murmured, moving her hand from her mouth to the back of his head, threading her fingers through his thick hair. She was surprised he wanted to go once more after not even a minute’s break.

 

“It’s your birthday,” was his only response, and her breath hitched when he teased her nipple with his tongue. She pressed her lips together tightly to try and keep quiet -- the house was full tonight, and she wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the eye the next day if she knew they’d heard her and Draco tonight; her moan before had been a slip-up that she hoped had been quiet enough.

 

Draco knew she was trying to keep quiet, and she was positive he was trying to make her break. He succeeded, too, when his hand came to her thigh, pulling it to the side to spread legs, and he ran two fingers up between her thighs and then to rest on her stomach.

 

“Shh…” he murmured with a smirk at her moan, and she grabbed his wrist when he went to move his hand back down.

 

“I can’t be quiet when you’re doing that,” she whispered, as she was already sensitive, having  _ just _ came.

 

His smirk only grew, and he moved to sit up, and then moved so he was kneeling between her parted legs. “Well you’ll have to try harder to be quiet, won’t you?” he said, and lowered himself onto his stomach, laying down.

 

Hermione’s eyes widened when she realised what he was doing, especially when with his free hand he moved her leg so it hooked over his shoulder. They’d never done this before… “What are you doing?” she whispered, leaning up on her elbows.

 

“Shh,” he said once more, and twisted his wrist that she was still holding, and grabbed her wrist instead, holding it down to the mattress. He took her other wrist to do the same, and moved his mouth closer to her.

 

“But you were just... _ there _ ,” she said, panicking over what he would think about it all. “You--you…  _ Oh _ ,” she breathed when he pressed his lips against her, and his tongue ran broadly between her wet folds. Any worry over what he’d be thinking about it, left her mind in that instant, and her back arched slightly from the mattress. Her legs jolted the second his tongue touched her clit, which was already sensitive from before, when she'd rubbed it quickly whilst Draco was inside of her, desperate to have her release.

 

She'd never have  _ thought  _ having his mouth down there would be this enjoyable. Of course she'd thought about him being on the receiving end of her own mouth, thinking he would enjoy that, but not once had her mind thought of what it could be like the other way. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, keeping her legs tight against his shoulders, still having his hands keeping hers to the mattress. A shaky shudder of breath left her mouth when he went slower, teasing her delightfully, making sure to lick near her clit but never  _ quite  _ where she needed him. Her heels were pushed hard into his back, and she'd be surprised if she didn't leave bruises to show for it, but he didn't seem to mind at all.

 

His left hand lifted from hers and he reached up to capture her chin, and she forced her vision down to look at him like he wanted. If her cheeks weren't already flushed red from their activities, they certainly would be after catching his gaze. She almost looked away, stricken with a brief few seconds of embarrassment over what he was doing and what noise it produced, but that dissipated in an instant when his tongue circled her entrance before pushing inside slightly. She squeezed her eyes shut, and a whine escaped from her throat as her whole body tensed up and shuddered.

 

“D-Draco,” she breathed, and with her free hand, she reached down and grasped his hair tightly. He seemed to like that, and moaned against her, causing her to tense up again and struggle to keep her own noise buried. He circled his tongue around her clit again, and she would loved to have had the house to themselves so she could stop containing her moans; so she could let him know how much he was torturing her. “Too...Too much,” she said breathlessly and tugged his hair tighter when he didn't relent on sucking her clit between his lips.

 

Her breathing quickened even more so, and she let him guide her free hand to his hair which she clutched eagerly with both hands now. Her legs jolted and she wanted so much to come, and for it to happen quickly, because everything was building so  _ fast _ . It was when he slid two fingers inside of her and attached his lips around her clit again, that she seized up and finally got the release she needed. She didn't care that she moaned too loudly, or that she had pulled several hairs from his head, or that her heels could probably break the ribs she was pushing them into; all she cared about was that she'd came, and it felt  _ so _ good.

 

She let her legs drop back to the mattress when Draco knelt up, and she watched through lidded eyes as he licked his bottom lip and then swiped his palm across his mouth before laying next to her again. She felt boneless as she reached one arm up to press her hand against his cheek and smile at him. He leaned forward, the grin on his face one of her favourite things to see, and they kissed softly, lazily. “You can do that again, sometime,” she murmured against his lips, and his breath puffed against her as he laughed quietly.

 

“You know I will,” he promised, and leant back in to kiss her more. 

 

* * *

 

“I don’t see any reason why they  _ wouldn’t _ think it’s a good idea,” Harry shrugged, and continued tapping his wand against his thigh. “It’s the most discrete form of communication we can think of, which is what they wanted.”

 

“Do you  _ really _ think that?” Hermione stressed, biting her bottom lip. “I’ve told you what inspiration I got the idea from, do you think that they’re going to think it’s an alright idea?” The thought of presenting to many members of the Order that she had formed a communication device inspired by the Dark Mark, was daunting to say the least.

 

“They’re not going to care about the inspiration. Just that it works,” Ron added, and she let out a shaky breath.

 

“What if they think I’m not capable of making so many coins work?”

 

“They won’t,” Harry, Ron and Draco all said at the same time, and the latter two smirked at each other and shared a laugh. Hermione was still too anxious over what the Order’s thoughts would be, that she didn’t say anything more about it.

 

The silence from inside the room they were standing outside of, suddenly lapsed as the silencing charm was taken down from the inside, and seconds later, the door opened with Arthur ready to leave first. “What are you kids doing here?” he asked curiously, stopping before crossing the threshold, holding up the people behind him that were ready to leave.

 

“I’ve --  _ We’ve  _ come up with a method of communication that we can use. Not just for us four when we’re...away...but for all the members to use when Patronuses aren’t an option,” Hermione said, her words coming out rather quickly in her nervousness.

 

Remus walked up beside Arthur, a look of intrigue on his face. “Do you want to share it with everyone here?” he asked, gesturing back to the Order members that had all moved away from crowding the door.

 

“I think it would be easier that way,” Harry said.

 

“Alright, everyone back in,” Remus said as he turned around and addressed the group of Order members in the room. Hermione, Harry, Ron and Draco all followed him back into the room, which had its usual furniture pushed to the walls to make room for some chairs scattered throughout, which all the members sat down in. Hermione spotted Narcissa who had caught Draco’s eye, and she gave him a smile. “These four here have something they want to share with us,” Remus spoke up, his voice silencing the quiet chatter that had begun.

 

“Not me,” Ron muttered and moved to go stand with his parents, and Draco quickly followed without a word, however choosing to stand next to his own mother.

 

Hermione got a spike of nerves. She never really liked speaking in front of large groups of people, especially when it was about such an important subject as this one. Even  though she knew the majority of the people in front of her personally, and the rest just by their faces and names, it was still a daunting proposition. Harry seemed to sense her hesitation, and with no problem at all, began to talk.

 

“We were told to come up with a form of communication between us and the Order for when we’re away from you all and get into a situation where we can’t use the Patronus charm. We think...well, actually,  _ Ron _ came up with the idea, that we should replicate the communication coins we used in our fifth year. In Dumbledore’s Army.”

 

“It’s just a simple Protean charm that connects all the coins together. In Dumbledore’s Army, Harry had a master coin and could change the serial-code numbers on the side of the Galleon to show the time and date of our next meeting. So for the coins we could make  _ now _ , it would be easy to have all coins be able to send messages to each other, but instead of changing the serial-code to numbers, we could have them change to letters,” Hermione said, and only when she finished talking did she realise she hadn’t taken a breath, and breathed in quickly.

 

Remus, who was sitting close to them all, had a smile on his face and nodded for her to continue. She looked over at Harry and he gave her a reassuring smile which helped her continue.

 

“We thought about taking it one step further though. Because there’s not enough room, really, to write where we are completely if we need to communicate that to you if we’re in danger. So we were thinking we can set the coins so that if someone charms the word ‘help’ onto their coin, it will automatically Portkey them to a safe area - which would be here.”

 

She had been looking at Harry as she’d spoken, to give her courage, and when she looked back at the other Order members, she was pleased to see that they all looked rather impressed. Remus especially, and he stood up from his chair and turned to face the others. “Does everyone agree that this will be a good idea to implement?” he asked.   
  


There was a murmur of agreement throughout the members and Hermione saw Molly look up at Ron and squeeze his arm with a proud smile on her face.

 

“Who’s going to make the coins?” Ted asked, and Remus looked back at Hermione.

 

“I can, of course,” she said. “I’ve done it once before. Draco will be helping me too, I can teach him the charm easily enough.”

 

“I’ll help too,” a voice piped up, and Hermione smiled when she saw that it was Narcissa who had offered. Several members gave her strange looks, but no-one commented on it.

 

“Then it’s settled,” Remus said. “Good job coming up with an idea, you lot.” He turned to Ron then, “Especially you.”

* * *

 

Knocking the door open with her hip, Hermione groaned as she walked into the room, her arms laden with the heavy books that she’d been reading through all day. They all detailed the various different topics that they had to be researching: Horcruxes, wards, defensive spells, and the Protean charm. She’d been reading the entire day, only breaking to have breakfast and then lunch, and she knew Andromeda was in the kitchen preparing dinner and figured it was time to stop reading completely for the night.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Draco asked. He was laying on his back atop the bed with his hands folded on top of a book that lay on his stomach.

 

“I’m officially over reading,” she sighed as she lifted the heavy books up on top of the dresser, where they thumped down onto the top. Her arms felt like jelly.

 

“Never thought I’d hear those words,” he laughed, and she heard the squeak of the bed as he got up.

 

“For tonight at least,” she added, laughing too. She arranged the books so all the spines lined up with each other, and just as she moved to turn away from the dresser, Draco came up behind her. “What are you doing?” she asked, and the corner of her mouth curved up into a smile.

 

He didn’t answer, and moved her hair out of the way behind her shoulder, and then put both hands on the dresser, blocking her in. He dipped his head and pressed his lips gently to her neck, and her head tipped to the side, giving him more access. She let out a soft, shaky breath, and his hands dropped to her waist and he pulled her back more firmly against his front.

 

“There’s only thi...thirty or so minutes until dinner,” Hermione breathed, struggling on getting her words out as he moved one hand up her front.

 

“We only need twenty,” he said against her neck, his voice low.

 

She wanted to turn around to face him properly, eager to continue on, but just as she thought about it, there came one hard knock on the door. There was no time for them to step away from each other or calm themselves down, as the door was opened immediately, showing Harry in the doorway. “Hermione, I need to talk to-- Oh…  _ Oh _ …” he said, his voice loud and urgent at first before he took in exactly what was happening, and trailed off.

 

Hermione’s cheeks were burning in embarrassment and she pushed out of Draco’s hold and brushed her hair down before looking Harry’s way. “Harry, what are--what are you doing...here...now?” she stumbled on her words too, struggling to look her best friend in the eye.

 

Harry’s eyes darted from her to Draco, and then back to her again, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just wanted to talk to you if that was alright. It’s nothing really serious,” he added, mostly for Draco’s benefit she figured, so he wouldn’t worry that it may be something important they should all know.

 

“Okay,” she nodded, and looked back at Draco who she hadn’t glanced at since Harry had come in. He was leaning back against the dresser with his hands clasped down in front of him. “We’ll go,” she said and then looked back at Harry. “We can go to the sitting room, there was no one there when I left a few minutes ago.”

 

“Sounds good,” Harry nodded. “I’ll see you there,” he said and didn’t wait for her to follow, and left the room.

 

“I’m going to kill him,” Draco said after a few seconds, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

 

“You’ll live,” she drawled and turned to place her hand on his chest, and stood up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she told him and then turned to go and meet up with Harry. He was already seated on the couch in the sitting room when she arrived, and he still looked rather awkward about what he’d walked in on.

 

“I am sorry about before,” he apologised again.

 

Hermione shook her head. “We should have remembered the door was unlocked,” she excused.

 

“I should have waited after I knocked,” Harry added with a wry grin.

 

“Yes, actually maybe you should have,” she finally agreed and laughed with him. “Now what is it you want to speak to me about?” she asked.

 

“I just finished speaking to Remus about ten minutes ago,” he said. “He apologised, you know, for everything that’s been happening. What happened at Grimmauld, mostly.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I’m glad. He apologised to Draco too. I do think he was in the wrong…”

 

“He was, and he knows that. It’s what he told me, and I’m assuming he told Draco something along the same lines. But I also apologised to him,” he added with a wince. “I might have reacted a bit strongly that night in Grimmauld… And I know that I did get a bit riled up the night we first arrived here, and I think that was a combination of lots of things.”

 

“Like what?” she asked him, probing him to talk if he could because she knew he hardly ever had an outlet unless he was prompted to give it, and she knew Ron most likely wasn’t offering to listen as much these days - they all had their own individual worries.

 

“Being in the forest in the first place, for one. It was just so...so frustrating  _ all _ of the time. Combined with having the locket on quite a lot, and then seeing Remus when we arrived here, well, he was the last person I was  _ really _ angry at, and all the other anger just sort of combined with it,” he explained, gesticulating with his hands, lacing his fingers together. “I was just furious at what he wanted to do to his kid.”

 

“That’s understandable, Harry, we all were,” Hermione said calmly. “And I don’t think any of us thought he’d be the one to suggest such a thing either.”

  
“Exactly,” Harry agreed and let out a sigh. “I feel better now everything’s forgiven. And seeing as though Tonks has come to forgive him too made me feel like it was time I should. There’s no energy spare to be holding grudges and anger like that.”

 

Hermione smiled, proud of him for what he was saying. “Don’t beat yourself up if you do feel that way about someone or something in the future,” she said. “It’s okay to feel that. You’re human. Just...don’t let it build up again, okay? Come to me to talk about it, or Ron - he’ll listen. Merlin, even Draco would if you two were around each other. You can’t let it all build up in your head again like that.”

 

“I know I can’t,” Harry nodded, and looked up at her from where he was staring at his knees. “I’m sorry if I’ve been snappy to you.”

  
She shook her head. “Don’t,” she said, and leant forward to pull him into a tight hug. “Just promise me you’ll talk, yes?”

 

“Promise,” he said, his voice muffled against her shoulder as he hugged her back tightly.


	46. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by me
> 
> So we tried something new with the POV this week, let us know what you think of it! If you'd rather it strictly be Hermione and Draco's POV or if you enjoy the occasional side character POV. 
> 
> Also, the blog for Unexpected (found @ unexpectedfic on tumblr) is up, so go ahead and check that out if you'd like! It is still a bit of a work in progress, but more info will be added. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking around and continuing to read and review! We hope you enjoy. Happy reading xx

**Hermione**

 

The first thing she heard was frantic shouting. Her eyes snapped open as she bolted upright in bed. Remus’s voice was the loudest of them all, carrying through the cabin and bouncing off the walls. Draco was already out of bed, wand in hand and rushing towards their bedroom door. With her heart now pounding in her chest, Hermione jumped out of bed and grabbed a jumper and her wand on the way out of their bedroom. Her bare feet slapped against the wooden floors as she ran towards the commotion with Draco just a few feet in front of her. 

 

“Keep her still!” Remus snapped. 

 

“No, not there, take her to the empty bedroom upstairs,” a calmer, female voice said. 

 

The large group was heading towards the staircase, a limp body levitating in the center of them. Who it was, Hermione couldn’t tell, not with all the members of the Order crowding around them. 

 

“What’s going on?” a familiar voice behind her asked. 

 

When she turned around, she saw Harry with his glasses askew and hair sticking up in every direction looking at her in bewilderment. “No idea,” she told him, picking up her pace. “I woke up to shouting and I came rushing out.” 

 

Several worst-case scenarios had flooded to her mind as she and Harry raced up the stairs two at a time. The first thing she’d thought of was that one of their own were gravely injured. Draco had already followed the crowd of Order Members to the last bedroom in the hall on the first floor, leaving Hermione and Harry rushing towards the open door. She could hear Harry’s footsteps next to her own as they drew closer. The shouting had stopped and instead was replaced with hushed voices. 

 

“Watch out for the cut on her neck.” 

 

As Hermione stepped into the doorway, her feet stopped in their tracks and her breath fled her lungs momentarily. Laying on the bed was none other than Pansy Parkinson, unconscious and covered in blood from her neck to her torso. Order Members crowded around the bed while Draco stood back from them all, gaping at Pansy as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. To be fair, neither could she. This was the first time the Order had returned with someone who wasn’t one of their own. She was desperate to blurt out the questions running through her mind, but now didn’t seem to be the time. 

 

Andromeda was crouched next to the bed with her wand. They all watched in silence as she began to syphon the blood away, revealing the tattered and scorched robes underneath. No one spoke a word for the next ten minutes while Andromeda worked carefully on her wounds. From afar, Hermione could tell some of them were deep. On her left cheek there was a particularly nasty gash, and another on the exposed flesh of her abdomen. 

 

“Will she be all right?” Harry spoke from somewhere behind her. “What’s she doing here?” 

 

“Harry, please, we will explain everything in just a few minutes but first we need to make sure she’s stable,” Remus said with fading patience. 

 

Narcissa had bent down on the other side of Pansy’s bed, brushing away the hair from her face and observing the overall damage to her body. Hermione’s stomach twisted itself into knots as she watched. Why wasn’t Pansy at Hogwarts? Where did the Order find her? And now that she was here, under their care, what was going to happen? 

 

Her inner thoughts were interrupted when Andromeda stood up heaving a heavy sigh and stepped back from Pansy’s bed. Her hands were stained red, and there were stray strands of her dark-brown hair framing her face.

 

“She’ll be fine for now,” she said, her voice quivering. “But we need to keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four hours.” 

 

Andromeda did not wait for any confirmation that she’d been heard, but instead strode past Hermione without so much as a glance, and out of the bedroom. Hermione’s eyes flickered back to Remus, who was leaning against the wall with a look of immense relief on his tired and aged features. Narcissa was still kneeling beside the bed, but her fingers were no longer stroking Pansy’s hair. 

 

None of them said a word. Remus, Kingsley and Tonks stared blankly at one another before filing out past the three of them without so much as a second glance. She heard Harry step further into the room as the elder Older Members disappeared, coming to a stop between Draco and her. 

 

“We should go talk to them,” Harry said. “Figure out what’s going on.” 

 

She looked over at Harry, looking just as confused and worried as she knew she did, and nodded. Her eyes flickered over to Draco who was still staring at Pansy. His mouth was set in a thin line now, and he looked paler than usual. Hermione walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his elbow, tugging him slightly. 

 

“Come on,” she said. 

 

Draco stared at Pansy for a few seconds longer before he finally turned his head to meet her eyes. She felt her breath hitch in her throat; the last time she saw this much fear in his eyes was the night of the Tower. Slowly, he nodded, swallowing hard. She searched his features for a moment, before tugging on his elbow again. 

 

“We’ll find out what happened, come on,” she repeated. 

 

She could hear Harry retreating towards the hall as Draco looked back at Pansy once more. She followed his gaze, forcing herself to not break contact with her unconscious form. This was part of their new reality. Of course it was impossible to ignore the war raging on around them. She couldn’t dismiss the cuts and bruises the Order Members gained on the battlefields, the list of reported dead people announced every day on the radio, and now this. 

 

With one last lingering look at Pansy, the three of them retreated out of the bedroom and headed back down the stairs. As they walked side-by-side, Hermione willed the pounding of her heart to slow, and focused on her breathing. Her knees were shaking, and her mind was still reeling. What the hell was going to happen now?

 

* * *

 

When they entered the kitchen, they found the Order Members sitting silently around the table. Either they too were all still in shock, or they had been waiting for the three of them to arrive. As they all found a place at the table and scraped their chairs against the wood floors, only Tonks looked up at the sound. 

 

“Oh,” she said flatly. “Good, you’re here.” 

 

Remus and the rest of the Order looked up, adjusting their faces into neutral expressions and straightening their backs. When Hermione glanced to her right, she saw Draco sitting next to her with his elbows on the table, hands laced together, his knuckles whiter than his face. 

 

“What happened? Why is she here?” Harry blurted out before Remus could even open his mouth. 

 

It was Tonks who spoke instead. “The alarm in Hogsmeade went off, and by the time we got there the Death Eaters had already arrived. We didn’t know why the alarm was going off in the first place until she came running out of the Hog’s Head. Aberforth told her not to, but…”  

 

“She begged to come with me,” Narcissa chimed in, her voice barely audible and shaky. Narcissa inhaled sharply, looking her son directly in the eyes when she spoke next. “I wasn’t sure if it was a trap. But...she couldn’t fake that. Naturally, I told her I would help her -- Get her somewhere safe…” 

 

Seconds went by, and still Narcissa did not speak. For the first time since Hermione had met the Malfoy matriarch, Hermione saw a crack in her composure. If she wasn’t mistaken -- and rarely was she ever --, Hermione swore she saw tears building in her cool, blue eyes. 

 

“Pansy was hit by a spell cast by a Death Eater,” Remus finished for Narcissa. The three of them looked over at him in alarm, having forgotten he was even there. “I was only feet away from them when it happened. As soon as I saw Pansy fall, and all the blood, I knew we had to get out of there as soon as possible.” 

 

“It was lucky we got away that quickly,” Tonks interjected. “I still don’t know how we managed it.” 

 

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, shaking her head to clear it all of all intrusive thoughts. “Okay,” she said slowly, taking in everything she’d just heard yet still not quite processing it either. “So what happens now?”

 

“If she wants to stay with us, we should let her,” Draco said quietly, his tone firm and jaw set as he looked Remus directly in the eyes. It was the first time he’d spoken since Pansy’s abrupt arrival, and though she should have expected him to take her side, his words still left her feeling uneasy. 

 

“If you’re insinuating that we invite her to join our mission,” Harry interjected angrily, leaning forward to see past Hermione and glaring at Draco. “It’s dangerous enough that you know!” 

 

“Did I  _ say  _ anything about your precious mission, Potter?” Draco spat vehemently, color finally returning to his face. “No, I don’t believe I did.” He looked back at Remus, who was watching the pair carefully. “But it doesn’t mean she can’t say here.” 

 

Remus took a deep breath, running his hands down his face before meeting Draco’s eyes once more. “We need to talk to her first,” he said calmly, but at the incredulous look on Draco’s face, he raised his voice so as not to be interrupted. “I’m not saying we will deny her a safe place to stay. We just need to be sure that is what she truly wants. For now, she needs rest.” 

 

No one spoke after this. Harry had leaned back in his seat, seemingly defeated for the time being, or maybe he was waiting for the rest of the Order to leave before he started on Draco again. Draco, looking less than pleased, scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

 

“So,” Remus said loudly. “Is everyone in agreement then? We let Miss Parkinson rest until she is in better condition, then two of us -- no, you will not be allowed to talk to until after we have Draco --” for Draco had sat forward and opened his mouth, “will talk with her about her intentions.” 

 

The other Order members mumbled in agreement. 

 

“Good,” he said, forcing his lips into a smile. “Let’s all get cleaned up and I think we’re all deserving of a bit of a rest today.” 

 

One-by-one the members rose from their seats and filed out of the kitchen, leaving herself, Draco and Harry at the table. 

 

“She could have a died,” a familiar voice said softly, causing the three of them to practically jump out of their seats. 

 

Hermione whipped her head to the left and saw Ron sitting just a few seats away from them, head in his hands. 

 

“Oh my god,” she muttered, flinging herself out of her feet and to her best friend’s side. She threw her arms around his neck and held him close. “I didn’t know you’d gone with…” she breathed. 

 

Ron sniffled, cleared his throat, then sat up straight in his chair until she let go of her grip. Sitting down beside him, and with Harry and Draco moving closer, Hermione placed a hand on his arm. 

 

“What happened, Ron?” she asked gently, the look of shock on his face making her feel uneasy all over again. 

 

“I saw her talking to Narcissa,” he responded hoarsely, still staring down at the table. “I saw the Death Eater fire the curse...or hex...or whatever it was at her and I’d tried to deflect it but...I wasn’t quick enough.” 

 

She heard Draco inhale sharply from behind her. “You tried to save Pansy?” he croaked. 

 

At this, Ron turned around to look at him incredulously. “I figured if she was talking to your mum… Besides, I could see she was crying. Didn’t look as though she wanted to be there.” 

 

Draco, apparently at a loss for words, began to pace in circles around the kitchen. Harry had sat down on the other side of Ron, looking at him with a mix of concern, and desire to know every little detail. 

 

“Could you hear anything she was saying?” he asked hopefully. 

 

Ron shook his head. “No, there was too much commotion around us.” 

 

“Let’s get you a cup of tea,” Hermione said, standing up from the table. 

 

She grabbed Draco by the sleeve and pulled him along with her. When she approached the counter and started pulling mugs from the cabinets above, she felt Draco’s arms slide around her waist and his head rest on her shoulder. 

 

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low in her ear. 

 

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I still haven’t...fully processed everything. I mean, Jesus,  _ Pansy? _ ” 

 

She hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, so bitter when she said Pansy’s name, but out of everyone the Order could have brought back, well...she definitely wasn’t expecting it to be her. Not to mention, Hermione was almost one hundred percent sure Pansy still hated her. And did Pansy even know that she and Draco were together? 

 

Draco released his hold on her waist and instead stood next to her, leaning against the counter with his arms over his chest. He looked disgruntled; gray eyes narrowed, lips set in a frown and nostrils slightly flared. 

 

“Better here than Hogwarts, or...wherever the hell she was before,” he snapped. 

 

Hermione sighed and ran her hands down her face before pulling her hair back into a ponytail. She bit her lip, and leaned against the counter with her palms. True, she hadn’t exactly thought about the situation from whence Pansy came. Until now, she’d been much too focused on the fact that she  _ was  _ here and had the possibility of staying once she recovered. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said quietly, looking up at him. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

 

“Clearly,” he said in a clipped tone. 

 

“Hey,” she said, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt. “I apologised, you don’t need to be an arse about it.” 

 

“No?” he challenged, standing up properly now and glaring at her. “You and your two best mates are acting like this is the worst thing that could have happened, and I’m not allowed to be angry about it?” 

 

“I never said you couldn’t be angry--” she said shrilly, but Draco had shoved past her. He stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Hermione staring after him, stunned at what just happened. Harry and Ron had broke apart from their conversation and watched him go. After he disappeared, her two best friends shot her curious looks. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and fumbled with the now three mugs in front of her, putting away the fourth. She returned to the table a moment later, three mugs of tea levitating in front of her. Harry and Ron had sat in silence while she finished making their tea, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence. 

 

“Do you think they’ll let her stay?” Harry asked after sipping his tea. 

 

She shrugged, but it was Ron that answered. “They don’t like turning away people in need do they? I mean, they let Draco in, and that was after he let Death Eaters into the castle and almost assassinated Dumbledore.” 

 

With a sinking feeling, Hermione realised why Draco had been so touchy about Pansy’s arrival…

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

After he’d stormed out of the kitchen, Draco had marched straight up to Pansy’s bedroom. The cabin was silent, which he took to mean all of the Order Members had indeed gone to sleep until the sun rose fully. Still, he approached Pansy’s room cautiously. The door was slightly ajar, and from inside, he could hear faint coughing. His heart rate quickened, matching his steps. 

He stopped just short of the doorway, and peered inside to make sure they hadn’t posted an Order Member to guard her. He was surprised to see that Pansy was quite alone.  _ Bit of a mistake on their part,  _ he thought scathingly as he stepped into the doorway. 

 

Pansy was laying down, but she had propped her head up against the headboard. His eyes widened when he realised she was awake. 

 

“Pansy,” he breathed, taking slow, tentative steps into the bedroom. 

 

Her eyes flickered to him, and her mouth fell open slightly. She recovered herself quickly, setting her features into a stoic expression. Her eyes narrowed, irises glinting in the candle light. 

 

“What are  _ you  _ doing here?” she spat, struggling to sit up and wincing when she moved too quickly. 

 

“I could ask you the same question,” he replied smoothly, pulling up a chair next to her bed. “You were begging my mother to bring you with her.” 

 

Pansy looked horrified that one of her most vulnerable moments had been shared with others. After a moment of stunned silence, Pansy shook her head and crossed her arms over chest. 

 

“I was not begging,” she argued. 

 

“Pans...” he said. 

 

The use of her nickname made her head snap to him, eyes glinting dangerously now. Draco got the feeling that if she could strangle him right now, she would. “Don’t call me that, Draco,” she snapped, her voice higher than usual. “You basically ignored me this past year, and then you just  _ left, _ ” her voice broke, and she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears. ”And then,” she said, her voice slowly growing steadier and her eyes growing darker, “I’m standing in the crowd with the rest of the students when I hear Hermione Granger calling your name.” 

 

Pansy grounded out every word like they were painful to speak. Her eyes shone with tears, except not one of them fell. Her face was hard as stone, save her bottom lip that was quivering. 

 

“So because I’m dating Granger I can’t call you Pans?” he asked, trying to quell the anger that was threatening to rise again. He hadn’t told Pansy while he’d still been at school, because he knew she would hate it and despise his relationship and the girl he loved. 

 

But Pansy shook her head. “No,” she said, “It’s because you didn’t tell me. It’s because we were supposed to be best friends and obviously you could tell Granger what you’d been up to all year, but not me.” 

 

He was shaking now. This was not how he wanted this to go. He’d been happy to see her, happier still to see that she was alive. “I didn’t tell you,” he spoke through clenched teeth, “Because I knew you’d give me shit about it. Hell, maybe you wouldn’t have spoken to me again.” 

 

“Would I have?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “You love her, obviously. Do you really think I wouldn’t have been happy for you?” 

 

“How do you know I love her?” he snapped. 

 

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you don’t?” 

 

“No,” he said quickly. “I do, just...how could you possibly know that?” 

 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “She knows more than any of your friends do, Draco. And you joined the Order, did you not?” 

 

Draco didn’t respond, instead his gaze shifted to the floor. He shoved his hands in his pockets, unable to meet her eyes. He nodded, but just barely. Pansy snorted. 

 

“You know Draco,” she said after a moment’s silence. “I tried to get to know all of you over the years, and I like to think I partially succeeded. I thought...I thought I knew everything about you. I wanted you to let me in, and maybe I wouldn’t have been happy at first about you and Granger...but I would have come around in the end. 

 

“But you?” she continued, her voice wavering slightly. “You didn’t bother to try and get to know me. Rarely ever did you ask me questions about myself, or try to learn more about me.” 

 

Shame and guilt flooded through him; he couldn’t deny what she’d said. It was true, especially during their sixth year. It wasn’t as though he’d been an awful friend on purpose, however. Maybe he had misread her in their fourth and fifth year, maybe she hadn’t been interested in dating him. But still, his intentions were not what she thought. 

 

“I didn’t mean to be so...detached,” he said lamely. “Look,” he said after they sat in silence for several minutes. “I’m just glad to see you’re still alive, and uh...I’m glad you’re here.” 

 

Pansy looked up at him beneath lidded eyes, her features full of doubt, but said nothing in return. She shuffled down until her head was resting on her pillow and pulled the blankets up to her neck. Draco rolled his eyes, knowing his cue, and stood up from the chair. 

 

“I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” he said as casually as he could. When Pansy made no movement, he muttered, “Whatever,” as he retreated towards the door. 

 

* * *

 

**Hermione**

 

Draco had ignored her for the rest of the day, which only irritated her further. She had been trying to find him to try and apologise  _ again  _ for being so close-minded about Pansy, but every time she entered the same room as him, he disappeared. By dinner time, she’d given up. The coins needed to be tested, and she had promised Harry that she would try to do some more research on Horcruxes in the hopes that she would come across a breakthrough. 

 

It was nearing eleven o’clock, the fire she had started a few hours ago was still roaring in the grate, but her eyes were starting to droop. She’d carefully read through every chapter of the book on Horcruxes, but she’d come up empty-handed. After six chapters of reading, she was mildly annoyed that she hadn’t come across one possible way to destroy Horcruxes, and by the time she’d reached the end of the book, she was furious. How could they not provide one simple answer? 

 

Hermione groaned, slammed the book shut and let her head fall back against the armchair. She closed her eyes, and let out a sigh. There was a dull pounding in her temples and behind her eyes, and the warmth of the fire only adding to her drowsiness. She clearly was not going to get anywhere tonight. Just as she pushed herself off the floor, she heard footsteps behind her. 

 

“Oh,” she heard Draco say, silence overcoming them as he stood frozen on the spot. 

 

“Are you still ignoring me?” she asked stiffly, gathering up the books she’d scattered among the floor. 

 

“Depends,” he said. 

 

“On what?” she asked him, now turning to face him, arms full of books. 

 

He shrugged. “Whether or not you still think Pansy shouldn’t be trusted.”

 

Hermione let out a sigh. “If you remember correctly Draco,” she said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t trust  _ you _ at first either. You had to build that, and it didn’t happen overnight.” 

 

At this statement, Draco looked defeated. A few seconds later, his expression turned to anger. His hands had curled into fists at his side, and his cheeks had flushed red. Hermione adjusted the pile of books against her hip, waiting for his retort. 

 

“Why was she crying, and begging my mother for help, Hermione?” he asked, voice shaking. 

 

“Do you realise the time we’re living in Draco?” she said shrilly. “We’re in a  _ war _ . People play tricks, lay traps...we can’t trust so easily. Remember what Moody said?  _ Constant vigilance _ . And I have no doubt that if he were here, he wouldn’t trust Pansy right away either.” 

 

He could make no argument against this, she knew. And judging by the look on his face, he knew it as well. Hermione felt her irritation deflate as she began to feel sorry for him, and felt guilty that she’d sounded so harsh. 

 

“Are you saying there’s no possibility, not even a sliver, that Pansy is innocent? That she isn’t lying?” he accused, taking a few steps towards her. 

 

“Of course that’s a possibility!” she said, exasperated. She paused, forced herself to take a deep breath, then said in a much calmer tone, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’re being this way. Pansy is your friend and...if roles were reversed, I know I would trust Harry or Ron,” Draco’s features relaxed at this admission, “But I also wouldn’t expect you to blindly trust them--”

 

Draco snorted. “I doubt that,” he said harshly. “Like you wouldn’t go a bit mental and tell me that I should trust your judgment? That it wouldn’t be insulting to you that I don’t trust your opinion?”

 

“I would not!” she said indignantly, a bit stung by his accusation. “It would be--”

 

“Nevermind,” he said, the quietness of his voice making her all silent. “We’re just going to keep talking in circles.” 

 

Hermione opened her mouth to argue that if he would just listen to what she’d been trying to say, this issue would be resolved. But clearly, neither of them were willing to cave. Why didn’t he understand? The other side could very well be laying traps for them; it was something the Order was trying to do to capture Death Eaters too. She was just being cautious, vigilant for anything that might wreak havoc among them. 

 

“I don’t understand,” she said, sounding more hurt than angry. “It’s not just me who is wary of this whole situation, yet I’m the only one you’re angry with. That doesn’t sound very fair does it?” 

 

“Because I thought that you’d be on my side about this! You’ve stood by me for everything else,” he gushed, voice tight and strained. 

 

“Draco,” she said firmly, gripping both of his arms and staring up at him fiercely. “I love you, and when it comes down to it, I will always be on your side. I  _ am  _ glad that Pansy is safe for the meantime, but I’m asking you to please be rational about this and just  _ think  _ of every possibility.” 

 

As the seconds past after her little speech, Draco’s features crumpled. His eyes softened as he stared back at her. She kept her grip firm until she saw his shoulders slump. 

 

“You’re right,” he said after a moment. 

 

Hermione let go of him and sighed, feeling relief flood her body. Finally, they were getting somewhere. Taking his hand, she guided him to the couch and sat down beside him. Draco rested his elbows on his thighs, and put his head in hands. 

 

“This whole thing threw me off,” she heard him mumble. “I was so...relieved when she turned up. I had no idea what happened to her after we left Hogwarts--”

 

“I know,” she said soothingly, resting her head on his shoulder. “It threw us all off, you know. This is the first something like this has happened.” 

 

Draco nodded, his head brushing against hers. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and sighed. “I am sorry, Granger, for getting on you about all this.” 

 

She smiled faintly and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “We all have a lot going on lately, but that’s why we have each other, right? To keep each other in check? Tell the other when they’re acting a bit--”

 

“Mental?” he finished for her, glancing at her with a weary smile. 

 

Hermione laughed through her nose and shook her head. “Yeah,” she said. “For when we’re acting a bit mental.” 

 

Simultaneously, they turned their heads towards one another before leaning in to kiss. His hand came up to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer. Hermione felt the familiar warmth spreading throughout her body, and the flutters in her stomach. Her heart skipped a beat as Draco inhaled, pressing his lips more firmly against hers. She smiled, unable to help the upwards pull of her lips. She felt Draco smile too, a small laugh escaping his throat.

 

Neither could stop smiling when they broke apart; their eyes bright, cheeks flushed, and lips slightly swollen. 

 

“I love you,” Draco whispered, their faces still only centimeters apart, foreheads touching. 

 

“I love you, too,” she replied softly as a wave of relief crashed over her. 

 

* * *

 

**Pansy**

 

She’d gotten awful sleep. Her bones ached, her wounds started throbbing in the early hours of the morning, and the wind had been howling so fiercely she thought her window would shatter. Even if she weren’t in so much physical pain, and the weather wasn’t working against her, Pansy highly doubted she would have been able to sleep much anyway. The rare times that she had drifted off to sleep, she’d relived the events of the night before. In a thoroughly agitated mood, she was less than thrilled when a knock came at her door at half-past seven. 

 

“Come in,” she muttered, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. 

 

The door creaked open, revealing a flash of bright red hair attached to a gangly, freckled boy. Her eyes narrowed as Ron Weasley entered her room, carrying a breakfast tray and an awkward air about him. This was the  _ last  _ person she wanted in her room right now. 

 

“Morning,” he said as he stopped next to her bed and set the tray down on the nightstand. 

 

Pansy said nothing as she studied him, drinking in his hand-me-down appearance, unkempt hair, and lopsided smile. He stood with one hand shoved in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck. 

 

“There’s erm, toast and eggs and a bit of sausage and bacon. We didn’t know what you’d like. The orange juice is in the pitcher, but we have--”

 

“I’m not hungry,” she said sharply, cutting him off. “I’m in too much pain to be hungry.” 

 

The moment the words left her lips, she regretted saying them at all. He didn’t need to know she was in pain; she’d let herself be vulnerable. She didn’t like being vulnerable in general, but in front of  _ Ron Weasley _ , it made her nauseous. 

 

“All right,” he said with a frown. “Well, I don’t really know much about pain potions or anything so why don’t I just get Andromeda?” 

 

“Better her than you,” Pansy mumbled, turning her head so she didn’t have to look at him any longer. 

 

Ron stared blankly at her, though the tips of his ears had turned bright red. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that given the fact that you’re injured, but in the future, you might not want to insult the person who tried to save your life.” 

 

_ What the hell was that supposed to mean?  _ Before she had time to ask him just that however, Ron stormed out of her room, slamming the door behind her. Pansy winced, staring at the door through which he had just left, hating the pang of guilt that pierced her chest. 

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

The four of them were instructed to remain in the kitchen while the Order went to talk to Pansy. He’d watched them walk away through narrowed eyes, irritated that they hadn’t asked for their opinions on the matter. Hermione had caught his expression, and gave his thigh a squeeze. 

 

“I’m sure they’ll ask us what we think when they come back,” she assured him. “They probably just want to know what she was doing in Hogsmeade in the first place.” 

 

He’d nodded, but didn’t tear his gaze away from the entryway to the kitchen. Harry and Ron had brought a set of Wizard’s Chess into the kitchen, which they’d already broken out. Draco heard the sound of marble colliding with marble, and a groan from Harry. Hermione had brought along The Tales of Beedle the Bard and was going through each story for what was probably the hundredth time. 

 

The next thirty minutes passed agonisingly slow. He paced for a good ten minutes, wondering  _ why  _ Pansy had been in Hogsmeade. If she was in Hogsmeade when she wasn’t supposed to be, that must have meant she’d left Hogwarts on purpose. But why?

 

From a distance, he could hear footsteps and the mutterings of the Order. Draco stopped where he was in the middle of the kitchen floor and waited. The other three had stopped too; Hermione shut her book, sitting up straight in her chair, chin slightly inclined, while Harry and Ron had pushed aside the chess set looking as anxious as he felt. 

 

The Order filed in, but from the disgruntled expressions written all over their faces, he couldn’t infer how the discussion had gone. Remus maneuvered his way to the front, the irritation evident on his lined face. 

 

“She wouldn’t tell us why she was in Hogsmeade,” he said flatly. 

 

“What do you mean she wouldn’t tell you?” Draco asked. He glanced at his mother and aunt, cocking his head to the side. But they both shook their heads. Pansy hadn’t wanted to tell either one of them? 

 

“She refused to explain it to us,” Remus answered. “She wants to explain it to you, Draco.” 

 

“Me?” he said, frowning. “Why?” 

 

Remus shrugged. “Probably because she trusts you the most, or she feels the most comfortable with you. Either way, it’s how we’re going to have to do this. We’re not going to insist a barely-legal witch to take Veritaserum.” 

 

“No offence intended, Draco,” Tonks piped up, “But what if she wants to talk to Draco because she knows he’ll believe her? If she lies…” Tonks shot Draco a guilty look, and let her sentence trail off. 

 

“A fair point,” Remus agreed, stroking his chin. “However, we do have several facts that suggest she’s merely uncomfortable appearing vulnerable in front of us. We saw her distraught state when we arrived in Hogsmeade, and we have a first hand account from Narcissa that Miss Parkinson seemed desperate to get away, and pleaded for help in that manner. Unless Miss Parkinson is an excellent actress, I doubt she will feed him a dishonest explanation.” 

 

“So I can go talk to her, then?” Draco interjected before Tonks could respond. 

 

They all exchanged looks with one another, some unsure, others nodding in approvement. Remus turned around and gave him a nod. With a breath of relief, Draco turned around to look at Hermione, who nodded solemnly. He smiled at her, mouthed “ _ Thank you _ ”, and swept out of the kitchen before any of them could change their minds. 

 

He was at Pansy’s room in less than a minute, knocked and pushed open the slightly ajar door before she’d told him he could come in. Pansy, however, only looked relieved to see him. 

“They let you,” she said, sounding surprised, as he pulled up a chair to the side of her bed. “I didn’t think they would.” 

 

“I don’t think they’re pleased that it has to be this way,” he told her, resting his elbows on his knees, ready to listen. “You’re not going to try and feed me some bullshit story are you?” 

 

“No,” she said quietly, her gaze in her lap, toying with a silver band on her right index finger. Draco frowned. This must be more serious than he thought. He’d never seen Pansy act like this or be as quiet. 

 

“Good,” he said, trying to use a gentler tone. He paused. “Whatever it is you can tell me.” To his surprise, Pansy shook her head. Draco sighed irritably. “Pans, you--”

 

“You know how to perform Legilimency, yes?” she asked, finally looking at him. 

 

“I--yes,” he said. “But why do you want me to perform Legilimency?” 

 

One lone tear slipped down Pansy’s cheek as her bottom lip began to quiver. Worry overcame him and he jumped from his chair to the edge of her bed. 

 

“Because I don’t want to  _ talk  _ about it,” she explained. “I don’t want to have to physically say it. It’s just--it’s easier this way. Please.” 

 

Draco blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her say please. With the look on her face, there was no way he was going to force her to say it. And despite the fact that he felt guilty performing Legilimency, he was at least comforted with the knowledge that this was what she had asked of him. 

 

“All right,” he said after a moment’s silence. “Just, erm... Relax and sit still. I still need a wand to perform it but--”

 

“That’s fine,” she said, closing her eyes and resting her head back against the headboard. “Just do it, okay?” 

 

With an inaudible huff, he pulled his wand out of from the inside of his jacket, pointed it at Pansy and prepared his mind. He took one deep breath, then said clearly, “ _ Legilimens _ .” 

 

The first memory was of Pansy tying a letter addressed to her parents to the leg of a barn owl and watching the owl fly out the owlery window. The second memory he came across was of Pansy sitting at the Slytherin table, looking up hopefully at the swarm of owls flying overhead. When no letter for her arrived, her face fell in disappointment. The memory faded and flowed into the next; Pansy was talking to a few of the fellow seventh year Slytherins. He heard her say, “I haven’t heard from them in weeks,” before the memory faded once more. 

 

He saw fleeting images of Pansy scribbling away on parchment, crying on her bed late at night, and...one of Pansy sitting with what looked a first year Slytherin girl with a comforting hand on the younger girl’s shoulder. The first year was crying, her sobs echoing eerily in his mind. He could see bright red streaks on her face, and the backs of her hands. He wondered for a fleeting moment what other wounds she bore. Pansy was whispering to her, though what she was saying he didn’t know. 

 

The memory faded into the next one, and what he saw stole the breath from his lungs. Pansy was on the floor of the dungeons, screaming and writhing in pain. His skin prickled at the sound, his heart now pounding in his chest. He felt sick to his stomach.  _ Is this what’s happening at Hogwarts?  _

 

All of the pieces were coming together now… Why she had run off to Hogsmeade, why she had pleaded with Narcissa to get her somewhere safe. He broke his concentration, pulling himself out of her mind and back to her bedroom. Tears were slipping down her cheeks, and eyes tilted up towards the ceiling. 

 

“At first I just wrote to check up on them, see how things were at home. As best I could anyway,” she whispered. “I never got a response. I started asking around, you know? Discreetly, of course. If any of their parents had heard from mine. Anyway, word got out and…” she trailed off, giving him a knowing look. 

 

His jaw dropped. “They tortured you because you wanted to know where your parents were?” 

 

Pansy shot him a sad smile. “Partially. Remember the little girl you saw? The Carrows had punished her for crying in the Great Hall because she wanted to go home. Her and I were sitting in an alcove on the third floor when the Carrows came across us. They’d overheard me telling her I wanted to go home too,” her voice cracked on the last few words. 

 

“Shit, Pans…” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “So...where are your parents? Did you ever find out?” 

 

“Gone,” she said. “Ran away, took off, disappeared… Gone.” 

 

“Where were you going to go?” he asked. 

 

Pansy shrugged, wiping at her eyes. “Well we have a house in Italy, I was going to check there first. But I never made it past Hogsmeade.” 

 

Draco leaned back in the chair, absorbing everything he’d just seen and heard. His heart ached for Pansy, and he understood perfectly why she didn’t want to tell any of the Order Members. Which made what he was about say all the more painful. 

 

“I have to go tell them about this,” he said apologetically, not quite meeting her eyes. “I won’t go into detail, but they need the gist of everything.” 

 

To his surprise, Pansy didn’t fight him on this. She merely nodded, sniffling and readjusting her covers. Draco gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before standing up and pushing the chair back against the wall. He was halfway across her room when he stopped and spun around on his heel. 

 

“Hey, Pans?”

 

“Yes?” she said, looking at him with watery eyes and red cheeks. 

 

“Don’t worry, all right? If they tell you that you can’t stay, they’re no better than people you ran from.” 

 

Pansy smiled at him, and he saw a few more tears slide down her cheeks. She nodded briskly and let out a shaky laugh. 

 

“Thanks,” she said. 

 

He nodded firmly, shot her one last smile and left. As soon as he was outside of her room and out of her view, he leaned against the wall. His legs were shaking after that whole ordeal, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was to have to repeat it all when he told the Order. He stole a few moments to collect himself, before pushing off the wall and continuing down to the hall. 

 

There was only positive thing that had come from her suffering; there was no way they were going to turn her away. 

 

* * *

 

He was unsurprised to find the entire kitchen silent, with its occupants waiting patiently for him. The moment he had entered however, they were all up and staring at him with expectant looks. 

 

“Well?” his Mother asked, coming to stand at his side. 

 

Draco looked around at them all, and he just knew he couldn’t go into detail. Not because he couldn’t handle talking about it, but because it felt like a betrayal to Pansy. She didn’t know the majority of these people, and disliked the ones she  _ did _ know. It hardly seemed fair to include the more vulnerable moments. 

 

He took a deep breath and said, “Her parents are gone. She doesn’t know where they are and she hasn’t heard from them in a while. And...Hogwarts is a bit different now. That’s why she was in Hogsmeade. She wanted to get away from Hogwarts and to find her parents, but she never made it out of the village.” 

 

There was a collective gasp and shocked mutterings as this piece of information registered among them all. Hermione bore quite a guilty expression, while Harry and Ron were staring at their feet. 

 

“Thank you, Draco,” Remus said, stepping away from the other Order Members. “I thought I should let you know that while you were talking to Miss Parkinson, we asked the other three whether they thought Pansy should stay, and they all agreed she should.” 

 

“Really?” he said, eyebrows raised as he glanced at Harry, Ron and Hermione who were now all chatting quietly. 

 

Remus nodded, smiling down at him. “Harry and Ron may never actually admit it, but I think they view you as a friend.” 

 

Draco scoffed, but didn’t have time to retort to Remus’s observation as he had clapped his hands together and said loudly, “Right then, I’m assuming we are all in agreement that Miss Parkinson will stay with us, be under the Protection of the Order?” 

 

Every person in the room nodded; Tonks, Andromeda, Ted, Narcissa, Kingsley, Arthur, Ron, Harry and Hermione. Draco felt his heart rate start to slow, and a smile slowly spread across his lips. Pansy was going to be safe, and more importantly, she wouldn’t be tortured again. 

 

“With that settled, I’ll go inform Miss Parkinson of the good news.” 

 

Draco sank into a chair at the kitchen table, and sighed heavily. He forgot how exhausting Legilimency could be. He let his head fall back, shutting his eyes as he did so. Only a few seconds later did he hear the scraping of chair legs against wood and Hermione’s voice. 

 

“I saw the look on your face when you came into the kitchen,” she said quietly so only he could hear. “What else happened, Draco?” 

 

He picked his head up and opened his eyes, grimacing at her question. Draco bit his lip, then said cautiously, “I...I don’t think I should be the one to talk about it.” 

 

Hermione looked disappointed for a moment before plastering a smile on her face. “Of course,” she said, nodding. “Completely understandable.” 

 

Draco took her hand, giving it a squeeze before leaning forward to kiss her. When he pulled back, he ran his thumb across her cheek, cradling her neck in his hand. “Thank you,” he said. “For understanding.” 

 

He saw blood rush to her cheeks as she smiled, avoiding looking into his eyes. “Of course,” she whispered. But when she turned to smile at him, he couldn’t help but notice the hurt in her eyes. 


	47. Friction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by oeuvre24! Sorry for the wait on the new chapter, but we promise this fic will not be abandoned. 
> 
> Just a reminder that we made a blog for this fic (url is unexpectedfic on tumblr) where we post updates, snippets, other news, and we also accept submissions of fanart/edits/etc. Feel free to ask us questions there too! 
> 
> We hope you enjoy the new chapter! Happy reading :)

**Hermione**

 

Half an hour after Draco had come back from talking to Pansy, everyone had slowly drifted off to their bedrooms for the night, including Draco who’d asked Hermione to come along too. Despite the fact that she now felt more awake than she had before, she was also feeling rather dejected that he felt he couldn’t tell her what Pansy had let him know. She had thought that surely he could trust her not to go telling the other girl’s story to everyone, and that she only wanted to hear it so it was some weight lifted off of his shoulders.

 

Hermione didn’t voice or show her anger, and instead agreed to accompany him back to bed. His head had barely hit the pillow before he was asleep, softly snoring, without so much as a ‘goodnight’ to her. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, not feeling an ounce of tiredness hit her. She was incredibly frustrated that no-one but Draco could be privy to why Pansy had left Hogwarts, and was even more so shocked that Remus had so readily accepted her under the Order’s protection.

 

The minutes ticked by and Hermione found it near impossible to get to sleep. She forced her eyes shut on many occasions, only to realise minutes later she had them open again and was back on a whirlwind train of thought. Normally, the quiet sounds of Draco’s snores, or snuggling into his side was enough to relax her enough to sleep, but it wasn’t happening. She could feel her patience wearing thin, so she gently pushed the covers back and slipped out of bed, tucking her wand into her pyjama pants’ pocket.

 

She pushed open the door of the bedroom and closed it behind her when she was out in the hallway. It was dimly lit, as it always was during the night, and she made her way to the kitchen, where the light was also on. She didn’t think anything suspicious of it -- having lights on during the night kept a lot of their nerves at ease --, but she was surprised to walk in and find Remus sitting at the table with a mug in his hold.

 

“Hermione!” he said, just as surprised as she was. “I didn’t expect anyone to be awake still.”

 

She glanced at the clock on the wall and noted that it was one a.m. She had been trying to fall asleep in bed since just before twelve; it certainly hadn’t felt like that long. “I can’t sleep,” she told the wizard, and moved around the kitchen preparing a hot chocolate for herself.

 

“I know the feeling,” he agreed. She didn’t respond, and started to pour the warm milk into a mug that she’d put some chocolate powder into the bottom of. “How do you feel about what happened earlier?” he broke the silence just as she turned to come to the table.

 

Hermione sighed as she took a seat, and wrapped her hands around the mug, warming her fingers. “I don’t know…” she said honestly. “I want to trust her, and I know I should be trusting Draco’s judgement one hundred percent, but it’s so hard…” she grimaced, feeling extremely guilty for saying it out loud.

 

“I know what you mean,” Remus said, with a hint of a smile on his face. “Back at the start of the first war, when Dumbledore told us all that Snape would be joining our ranks, none of us trusted him. We trusted Dumbledore; his speech, his judgement, everything...but never Severus himself. It’s a confusing feeling.”

 

Hermione felt a pang of pity that Remus had experienced so much war in his life. She took a sip of her drink before speaking again. “I know that she’s not a Death Eater. And Harry never mentioned hearing the name Parkinson when he faced off You-Know-Who in the graveyard. I know that they’re not a  _ good _ family, but I also know they’re not directly involved with him -- unless that’s changed very recently…”

 

“It hasn’t,” Remus assured her. “Her family has no direct ties. They were...sympathisers, we can say. I don’t think Pansy ever held any of those ideals or carried the same hatred that the Death Eaters do. I think she was merely a spoilt, jealous little girl who grew up being fed from a silver spoon, and liked to bully others to feel important. It’s no excuse, none at all, but her family’s lack of dedication to You-Know-Who is why she’s here in the first place.”

 

Hermione furrowed her brows and gave him a curious look. “How--?” she started, but didn’t know what question to ask first.

 

“When I went to tell her that we would be keeping her under our protection, she offered me the same opportunity she did Draco -- a glimpse into her mind through Legilimency. What she showed me was brief, but enough for me to now know completely, and trust fully, that she needs our protection.”

 

“She...She showed you?” Hermione asked, and her fingers curled tighter around the mug. “But--”

 

“She understands my ranking in the Order. I can only assume that if she let’s me know what exactly happened, there won’t be an opportunity for doubt to grow enough that we would throw her out,” he explained.

 

“And you do? Trust her?”

 

“I do, Hermione,” Remus nodded. “And she will be staying with us. She may not become an official member of the Order, but she will be under our protection. If we pushed her away and left her in this time of need, we would be no better than the side she ran from.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione had steadily been working on the communication coins since the day after she had presented the idea to the majority of the Order. For the first few days, she had mainly focused on making fake Galleons, of which there were  _ many _ , as each member would have their own. Knowing that this was much more serious as they were up against Death Eaters and Voldemort rather than Umbridge, Filch and the Inquisitorial Squad, Hermione spent a lot of time on each coin, ensuring that each looked identical and practically indistinguishable from the real coin it was based off.

 

So far, she had a small pile of around fifteen Galleons that were ready to have the Protean charm applied to them, but with everything that had been happening since she’d started concentrating on them, like Ron sneaking off on missions, continuing her research on Horcruxes, reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and now having the issue of Pansy in the cabin, she hadn’t been able to devote as much time as she would have liked. Ron had offered to help her, but after the three coins he produced all looked completely different to each other  _ and _ a real Galleon, she had politely told him that maybe he’d be better helping Harry out rather than her. 

 

It was now the day after her late night chat with Remus, and she was beginning to get increasingly frustrated when she continued to make silly mistakes on the coins she was trying to make. She hadn’t gotten to sleep until around three in the morning, and then she’d been woken up at seven by Draco. They hadn’t spoken much apart from a brief conversation over the breakfast table, and that was also adding to her grouchy mood.

 

Almost as if it wanted to remind her, the locket which hung around her neck felt colder where it rested on her chest, and she sighed. It wasn’t helping her irritability in the slightest, but it was her turn to wear it and was only fair. She’d tried reasoning with Harry that now they were in the cabin, it would be safe to leave the locket in her bag, but he had shut down her suggestion quickly and insisted they all continue to take turns looking after it. She reached into her top and pulled the locket out, and her brow furrowed as she looked at it. She’d never hated an inanimate object so much… Well, really, it wasn’t an inanimate object at all. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

 

There was a soft knock at the door which made Hermione jump and hurry to conceal the locket under her shirt again, and once she had, she cleared her throat. “Come in,” she said, not wanting to be rude and deny whoever it was even though she really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise before she composed her features again, after seeing who opened the door to come in. “Mrs Malfoy… Come in, please,” she said awkwardly.

 

Hermione could count on one hand the amount of times she and Draco’s mother had been in the same room alone together, and the amount of times they’d had a one-on-one conversation was even less. The regal witch still intimidated her, though she would never admit it.

 

“You know you can call me Narcissa,” she said as she walked in and took a seat on the chair across the table from Hermione. “You’ve been in here quite a while.”

 

“I’ve been trying to get the coins done as quickly as possible,” Hermione said, not bothering to contain her sigh. “I’m not performing as well as I normally do, I have to say,” she admitted.

 

“You can’t work at one hundred and ten percent all the time,” Narcissa said with a small smile and she picked up one of the coins, running the tip of her perfectly trimmed and shaped nail across the embossed numbers and patterns on the gold. “I wouldn’t know how to tell the difference between this and the real thing.”

  
“That’s what I’m aiming for… Although I can’t get it right with these ones,” Hermione gestured to the small pile of coins that she had messed up. “I feel like my eyes are playing tricks on me.”

 

Narcissa picked one of them up and looked at both sides. “There’s only very tiny differences,” she said, “I wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t told me.” Hermione shrugged a shoulder and looked at the table, tracing a grain in the wood with her finger. There was a minute or so of silence until Narcissa spoke again, “I can help you with them, if you’d like.”

 

Hermione looked up from the table with slightly widened eyes. “Would you?” she asked, surprised at the offer.

 

“Of course,” she nodded. “I don’t have much else to do around here and I rather dislike having nothing to do.” She took her wand from her robes and picked up a coin before pausing, “That is, if you trust me to make them just as you have?”

 

It was an unneeded question, really. Draco had told her so much about his mother’s magical talents that even included Occlumency, and had frequently mentioned how he felt rather bad that his mum didn’t get to do anything with her talents as she’d been a stay-at-home wife and mother ever since marrying Lucius. “I do trust you,” Hermione nodded. “Do you need me to show you the charm?” she asked.

 

“No, I know it well,” she said with a small smile. “I used to have to do the same with countless necklaces and bracelets when Draco was a toddler -- he’d constantly break them. Priceless pieces of jewelry, but I could never get angry over it,” she continued, her smile growing.

 

Hermione laughed at the thought of a tiny Draco breaking jewels that Narcissa so easily replaced to fool everyone else. “He did that a lot as a baby?” she asked, deciding to lean back in her chair and relax a bit while Narcissa started working on the coin she was holding.

 

“All the time,” Narcissa nodded and let out a laugh of her own. “I can’t even remember how many crystal glasses and vases he smashed when he got out of my view.”

 

“You’ll have to tell me more about his childhood,” Hermione smiled. “I need more information to pull out and embarrass him at any point,” she joked.

 

Narcissa laughed delicately at that. “I’m sure I can provide many stories,” she assured.

 

* * *

 

“The coins only respond to those that know how to use them,” Hermione explained as she stood in front of a small group of Order members. There weren’t as many as there had been when she and Harry had first told them about the coins in the first place, and the fact that she knew everyone she was speaking too well, meant she was a lot calmer. She offered the small bag of coins to Remus first and he took one and passed it along to Tonks who continued passing it along until everyone held a fake Galleon in their hands; Mister and Mrs Weasley, Narcissa, Andromeda and Ted, the twins, Draco, and then Harry and Ron who didn’t need to be taught how the coins were used, but were there for moral support.

  
“They look incredibly real,” Mister Weasley said as he turned the coin over in his hands, marvelling at each side.

 

“I can’t take all the credit,” Hermione added. “Mrs Malfoy did help me quite a bit with these.” She looked over to Narcissa who gave her a warm smile. She was very thankful for the Malfoy matriarch’s help making the coins, and the time she’d spent with her had provided her with a lot of comfort. They didn’t always talk, but when they did it wasn’t as awkward as it had been the first time, and Narcissa had always been very interested in hearing what Hermione had to say about the topics she was passionate about. It had taken them two more days of pretty consistent working to make sure the coins were as good as they possibly could be, and Hermione couldn’t be more grateful for the help.

 

“How do we use them exactly?” Tonks asked, resting her hand on the small bump of her belly that was becoming more visible every week.

 

“Everyone’s coin has the Protean charm applied to it so we can change the fake serial numbers on the edge of the coin to show whatever message you want, as long as it’s not too long,” Hermione explained. “Everyone’s coins will heat up to alert that a message has been sent between them. If the message is one of distress, say, someone needs to be apparated away from somewhere or needs backup, then we need to be efficient… Whoever responds to the call needs to send a message through the coins so not every single Order member arrives at the same place.”

 

“Possibly into a trap…” Remus added, and Hermione agreed.

 

“I’ve made a separate coin to stay here, probably in the kitchen, and it will also double as a Portkey if anyone ever needs it.”

 

“Blimey, you’ve thought of everything,” Fred grinned, flipping his coin up in the air with his thumb.

 

“ _ Please _ take care of them. Don’t let them out of your sight...or your pockets. We can’t afford to have them end up in the wrong hands,” Hermione said, and both the twins saluted whilst everyone else murmured in agreement.

 

The lapse of instruction meant everyone started talking between themselves, and Remus stood up to come and talk to Hermione. While he spoke to her, she glanced behind him and caught sight of Draco who gave her a thumbs up and a grin. It made her smile too, and when she finished speaking to Remus she walked over to him. “I’m proud of you,” Draco murmured and pulled her in for a hug. She was surprised at his display of affection in front of everyone else, but she didn’t question it and wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged back tightly -- she wasn’t going to pass up on this.

 

* * *

 

She  _ had  _ been in an extremely deep sleep, and it was very much needed too. She had stayed awake long past midnight with Harry trying to think of places the other Horcruxes would be, and the only progress they had made (if it could be called that), was that Harry was even more set on the fact one would be hidden at the Orphanage Voldemort had grown up in.

 

Hermione had gone to bed irritated with Harry’s narrow mindedness on the situation, but thankfully Draco had been more than happy to pull her close and hold her until they both fell asleep. She'd known that they had nothing urgent happening in the morning so she had the chance to sleep in, but that plan flew out the window rather quickly…

 

It was Draco’s fingers dipping into the waistband of her pyjama pants that first made her stir in her sleep. She let out a soft sigh -- more of a groan really -- from having her sleep cut short, and almost turned on her side, but stopped when she felt his lips press against her neck, just below her jaw. He pushed her pyjamas down her thighs and the movement made her slowly open her eyes, and at the same time she lifted her hips up to allow the pyjamas to go past her bum. Draco had only ever woken her up this way twice before; the first time had been quite the shock, but _now_? She was going to take what he was giving, because Merlin, she thought she needed it.

 

He kissed her neck again softly as he pushed her knickers down to join her pyjama pants just below her knees, and she parted her legs for him. “Morning,” he murmured to her, his voice deep and raspy from how early it was, and he continued to kiss her neck, focusing on one particular spot which always made her feel weak.

 

She hummed softly in acknowledgment, not wanting to speak, and she let her eyes close again. His fingers were soft as they roved down her stomach, tracing below her belly button for several seconds before continuing on to her thighs. He rubbed her inner thighs gently, and she smiled, letting her legs part even more. She didn’t know how long he spent touching her thighs and her stomach gently, avoiding where she really wanted his fingers to go, but at that point, she didn’t  _ really _ mind. It was a lazy morning after all, and she knew he’d make his way there eventually.

 

And eventually he did, and Hermione’s legs jumped slightly when he ran two fingers between her folds, focusing only on her clit. With her eyes still closed, she pushed her head back firmly into her pillow and reached down to grab Draco’s forearm. She could feel his lips curl into a smirk against her neck, and felt his hardness against the side of her thigh. She grit her teeth tightly when he kept his pace consistent, rubbing gentle circles around her clit, not going too fast or too slow, but she let out a small moan when he moved his hand away from her completely to push the blankets off of them. She didn’t mind the cold air that hit her mostly bare legs, as he was back to touching her again in the exact same way he had before.

 

Now she was  _ very _ aware of how much time was passing, and she pushed her heels into the bed as she rocked her hips forward, wanting more than he was giving her. He chuckled quietly against her neck, and quickened his circular movements with his fingers until her grip tightened on his arm and she kept lifting her hips off the bed. She whispered his name and told him to go faster which he happily did. The pressure built and built before she tensed her legs and grabbed his arm with both hands when she came, and after several seconds she relaxed and lay there feeling limp with a silly smile on her face.

 

Her legs jerked every few moments as Draco was still touching her, though slower than before. “Feeling better?” he murmured against her neck after a few minutes had passed, and he moved his hand down to pull back up her knickers and pyjamas.

 

She turned her head to look at him and their noses brushed against each other. “Very much,” she told him and then pressed her lips to his. When she pulled back, she closed her eyes. “Need more sleep,” she mumbled, and pulled his arm around her middle. “Too tired…” His quiet laugh against her cheek was the last thing she really remembered before falling asleep.

 

When Hermione woke next, it was from a knock that sounded at the bedroom door. She lifted her head from her pillow, and held her blankets tighter to her chest while Draco moved around to get out the bed. “Hold on,” he called as he pulled on some pants before going to the door and opening it a fraction so whoever was there couldn’t see Hermione still in bed.

 

“I know it’s early,” the voice from the hallway said, and Hermione realised it was Andromeda. Knowing she couldn’t be seen, she got out of bed quickly and started to take off her pyjamas then dress in the clothes she’d worn the day before, still listening to Draco and his aunt’s conversation as she did. “I just thought you’d like to know before everyone else: I think Pansy’s healed.”

 

“Completely?” Draco asked, and Hermione paused from where she was pulling her jeans up.

 

“Yes, I believe so,” Andromeda said. “I was going to help her to the bathroom like I usually do, but she said she could do it herself -- she walked fine, and has lost the tremors she’s been having when she moves.”

 

“So… There’s no lasting effects?”

 

“Not that I can see,” she answered. “Physically, at least… I know what the girl went through, and I can tell that she endured the Cruciatus curse a lot longer than I had to; I only had tremors for around half a day, nothing like what she’s suffered through. I’m sure there are lasting mental effects for her, but nothing completely detrimental. A familiar face and a helping hand is probably all she needs --  _ wants  _ \-- right now.”

 

“Can you tell her I’ll come see her as soon as I’m dressed?” Draco asked, and Hermione finished pulling her jeans up and put her shirt on too, watching Draco shift his weight from foot to foot as he stood at the door.

 

“Of course I can, take your time, Draco,” Andromeda said and then her footsteps faded as she walked away and Draco closed the door and turned to Hermione with a smile.

 

“It’s good news,” he said, and Hermione smiled back.

 

“It is,” she agreed. “I’m glad she’s better,” she told him, and she really  _ was _ . She wouldn’t wish such harm on anyone, regardless of what had happened in the past.

 

“I know I’m meant to have the locket this morning…” Draco said after a brief pause, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “But…”

 

“I’ll take it,” she said, though not willingly.

 

“I just don’t want to be an arse if something happens. She’s just gotten better after all, I’m the only one she really knows besides mum,” he said, confirming what she’d suspected was his reason of not wanting the locket.

 

“I know,” she assured him with a terse nod, and pretended to look around for her socks so he wouldn’t see the look on her face. She knew that he’d now forgotten that the both of them had planned to spend the day outside reading up on various different things they had to focus on, but how could she blame him? She shouldn’t blame him… She had to remind herself that she would act the same if the situation was reversed.

 

She glanced at him when he didn’t respond, and found him quickly dressing, wearing the same clothes as he did the day before -- just like her. When he finished, he walked up to her and put his hand on her waist. “I’ll go see Pansy now,” he smiled and leant in to give Hermione a chaste kiss on the lips.

 

He didn’t notice her forced smile, and turned to leave the room in a rush. She stood in the middle of the bedroom and grit her teeth tightly and had to stop herself from curling her fingers into her palms. ‘ _ Stop it, Hermione! _ ’ she scolded herself roughly in her head, and brushed her hair back from her face. There was nothing to be angry or jealous over. They could  _ trust _ Pansy, and she needed a friend, Hermione reminded herself. She let out a sigh and then left the bedroom to head up to Harry and Ron’s bedroom to collect the locket from the latter, and then spend the rest of the day outside reading. At least the weather was nice…

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

Draco took the stairs two at a time, saying a quick hello to Harry who was walking down just then. He reached the top and walked to the room that Pansy was staying in, and knocked on the door.

 

“Come in.”

 

He pushed the door open when he heard her, and saw her sitting at the end of the bed wearing clothes that looked two sizes too big for her. “Hi,” he said, giving her a small smile. “How are you feeling?”

 

She didn’t look happy, and from the dark circles beneath her eyes he could tell that she hadn’t been sleeping well. With a sigh, she stood up and curled her fingers around the cuffs of her jumper, as the sleeves hung past her hands. “How do you think I’m feeling?” she asked rather snappishly. “I’m tired, I’m sick of people looking at me like  _ you’re _ looking at me,  _ and _ I’m wearing the Weaselette’s clothes. I might as well be wearing a hessian bag.”

 

It took a lot of willpower to keep from smiling at that. She definitely was the same Pansy he knew, just a rather worn-out one. “Do you want me to shrink the size of them?” he asked. Pansy was tall -- taller than Hermione at least --, but not as much as Ginny Weasley was. It made him wonder if Mrs Weasley had left the clothes specifically for Pansy or if there was another unexplained reason.

 

“Yes,” Pansy nodded. “They took my wand. Apparently I’m not allowed it back because I’m safe enough here that I shouldn’t need it.”

  
That made Draco furrow his brows and he made a mental note to ask Remus if that  _ really _ was a good idea. He took his wand from his pocket and shrunk Pansy’s clothes down enough that they weren’t hanging off of her. “Shall we go down to have breakfast?” he suggested.

 

She nodded again, and he offered his arm out to her to hold. She stared at it in disgust, as if his offering to help disgusted her, and she walked out of the room first, albeit rather slowly and with a slight limp. “Weasley’s been bringing me breakfast,” she said as they reached the stairs, and she hesitated long enough for Draco to extend his arm to her again.

 

This time she took it.

 

“He has?” Draco asked in surprise. “I knew he feels pretty guilty about the whole thing, but acting like your butler too?” he smirked. “You must be loving it,” he joked.

 

“I hate it. I don’t want to be waited on like some...like some…” She searched for a word.

 

“Like someone who definitely needs help from other people who are willing to give it?” Draco drawled and earned a sharp glare from her. They reached the bottom of the stairs and surprisingly, she didn’t unhook her arm from his. She was holding his forearm rather tightly, and he could have lost blood supply to his hand from what happened next… 

 

They walked into the kitchen and seated at the table was Harry, Ron and Hermione, all talking amongst themselves, laughing. When Draco and Pansy walked in, Harry was the first to speak. He kept a smile on his face as he spoke, “Morning. There’s still some scrambled eggs if you guys want some.”

 

Draco nodded, and looked at Hermione. The small smile she’d had on her face when she’d been talking to Harry and Ron had disappeared and she was looking down at her empty plate; he could just see the chain of the locket peeking from her top’s neckline. “I’m going outside,” she said as she stood up, and the legs of her chair scraped against the floor. Draco caught her eye as she walked past, but she didn’t say anything else, and left to go to the backdoor.

 

“Might as well keep her company,” Ron mumbled as he got up too and put his hands in his pockets as he walked the same way Hermione had. Harry didn’t make an excuse, but stood up and gathered the dirty plates on the table and took them to the sink and with a flick of his wand, had them being cleaned up, and then he was on his way too, leaving Draco and Pansy alone.

 

“They’re not subtle,” she said and slipped her arm from around his and took a seat at the table. Although she feigned ignorance and so obviously was pretending their reaction didn’t affect her, Draco caught the hint of sadness on her features when she thought he wasn’t looking.

 

_ This is going to be difficult _ , he thought, and turned to the counter to start plating up breakfast.


	48. Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies for the very late upload. This story isn't abandoned though, hope you've stuck with us. Chapter written by avdubs, also uploaded on her ao3 profile. Song recommendation: Horizon by Garth Stevenson

 

**Hermione**

 

She heard the back door creak open, and a second later she spotted a blond head of hair in her peripheral. Mentally preparing herself for the inevitable conversation, Hermione sat up straighter on the bench and cleared her throat as Draco sat down to her left. She glanced to the right, and spotted the locket laying where she’d left it as it had been distracting her from doing research. 

 

“I’m trying,” she said. “It doesn’t seem like it, I know--”

 

“You’re right about that,” he replied, an edge to his voice. “The three of you never were good at subtlety were you?” 

 

Hermione turned her head to gape at him, taken aback by his reply. “Oh please, you’re one to talk,” she snapped, glaring at him. She paused, forcing herself to take a breath, then continued, “Fine, maybe we could have been less obvious. But trusting is easier said than done, Draco. Harry and Ron didn’t trust you right away -- the bloody Order interrogated you in case you’ve forgotten -- and you _still_ had to prove yourself despite what my word was.”

 

He opened his mouth but nothing came out at first; with brows furrowed, and nostrils flared slightly. “Just work on the subtlety, alright? This is awkward and difficult enough as it is without the blatant acts of dislike.” 

 

She nodded, not meeting his gaze. In hindsight, she probably should have smiled at Pansy, or told her where the tea was, but in that moment all she had thought of was getting the hell out of there; they didn’t exactly have the best history together. The last thing she wanted was to endure Pansy’s insults and snide remarks, especially that early in the morning. 

 

“Have you--”

 

“I’m going to talk to Pansy about this as soon as I go back in,” he said. 

 

“Good, good,” she said, running her hands down her thighs. “I’ll, uh, apologise to her about earlier. I just need a bit more time alone, alright?” 

 

Draco nodded, squeezing her shoulder and kissing her cheek. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” 

 

Hermione watched him go with a heavy weight in her chest. She felt guilty, foolish and  _ childish  _ for how she’d acted earlier. She knew she should apologise to Pansy, and that she deserved a second chance, but like Draco had said, it was not going to be easy in any way. 

 

***** 

 

When Hermione returned inside, the first place she checked was the kitchen, and sure enough, Pansy was still there. Harry and Ron had gone, undoubtedly to discuss the locations of the other Horcruxes, again. The Slytherin was finishing her toast and coffee, looking down at her plate, unaware that Hermione was even there. 

 

“Pansy?” Hermione called out, the name feeling wrong on her tongue. She’d never addressed her by first name before. 

 

Pansy looked up only after she’d finished chewing, wiping the tips of her fingers on her napkin. Her face remained expressionless when she replied shortly, “Granger.” 

 

Hermione gave herself a little shake and sat down across from Pansy. “There are many differences between you and I, Pansy, however, I think we both can agree that this--” she gestured between them and around the room, “--is going to be difficult to get used to. Therefore,” she spoke matter-of-factly, “it would be unwise for either one of us to act in a way that will increase the difficulty of the situation. I shouldn’t have walked out earlier, and I’m...sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable, but I won’t lie and tell you that I’m looking forward to this arrangement.” 

 

She saw Pansy’s chest rise as she inhaled, one eyebrow arching up as she spoke. When Hermione finished, Pansy smirked. “You’re shit at apologies, has anyone ever told you that?”

 

Hermione chuckled, finding that the comment didn’t bother her. “It is definitely not a strength of mine.” 

 

“I’m not looking forward to this arrangement either,” Pansy continued, sitting back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the protection, but if I had it my way, I’d be somewhere in France,” she paused, gazing off into space. “Or Italy.” 

 

Hermione snorted. “I think we’d all like to be somewhere other than here.” 

 

Pansy hummed, bringing her cup up to her lips for another sip of coffee, her gaze fixed on the window looking out into the forest. Silence fell between them, and while Hermione felt uncomfortable, her chest felt lighter. By no means was she on good terms with Pansy, but it felt like the start of something better. Hermione averted her gaze before clearing her throat and dismissing herself from the kitchen. 

 

As she walked out the room, she inhaled deeply and forced herself to stand up straight. She was more than capable of being the bigger person. It wasn’t as if she had to befriend the prickly Slytherin, she merely had to be civil.  _ I can do that,  _ she told herself,  _ for Draco’s sake.  _

 

When she collided with something solid and taller than her, Hermione stumbled backwards. Two arms reached out to hold her steady, and a familiar laugh rang in her ears. Hermione blinked, shook her head, and found herself looking up at Draco. He was shaking his head, smirking. 

 

“Lost in that big brain of yours again?” he teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering them towards their bedroom. 

 

She smiled up at him, snaking her arm around his back. “How did you know?” 

 

Draco kissed her temple. “I know you too well, Granger. Besides, it was a bit of a giveaway when you ran into me.” 

 

Hermione chuckled. “I suppose it was, wasn’t it?” 

 

“Everything all sorted now?” he asked, now looking anxious. 

 

She nodded, her smile fading. “I think so,” she told him as they entered their bedroom. “Neither one of us are really happy about it, though. But we’ve come to...an understanding.” 

 

Draco pulled her in for a hug, sighing deeply. “Thank you,” he murmured, pressing his lips against the top of her head. “That means a lot to me.” 

 

Hermione smiled into his chest, her arms wrapped around him, basking in this moment of peace. 

 

*****

 

After Hermione and Draco had resolved things, she had thought that all would go back to normal. Well, as normal as it  _ could _ get these days. Draco had brought a plate of food up for Pansy that same evening and spent some time with her. Hermione guessed she wasn’t yet comfortable enough to join the dinner table, and Hermione couldn’t blame her. While Hermione was ready to move forward and adjust to their newest member of the household, Ron and Harry were not there yet. They’d both hid in their shared bedroom all day, and when it came time for dinner, they’d both gobbled their food before disappearing once more. 

 

Draco had given her a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing with two plates, one in each hand, and she hadn’t seen him until it was nearing midnight and she was already in their bed, a book in her lap. Admittedly, she had been a tad annoyed that he’d been holed up in Pansy’s room for so long, but she still asked how the other girl was doing when he had returned. 

 

“All right, I suppose, considering the circumstances,” Draco had replied, sounding exhausted and flopping onto the bed next to her. “I’ve forgotten how much she can talk.” 

 

Hermione hummed in response, but couldn’t muster much sympathy for him at the time. She returned to her book while Draco changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth. When he returned to their bed, he cuddled up next to her, trailing light kisses down her neck. Hermione pulled away as she shut her book. 

 

“Sorry,” she said, wincing at the dejected look on his face. “I’m just tired, I’m not really in the mood for…” 

 

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, scooting away from her and pulling the covers over them both. “We both need rest, yeah?” 

 

“Yeah,” she said quietly. She felt guilty for brushing him off, but she couldn’t help but feel annoyed. She had the locket hidden under her shirt, and a fresh wave of hurt washed over her when she realized Draco hadn’t noticed. 

 

“Goodnight, love,” he mumbled, turning on his side, back to her. 

 

“G’night,” she murmured, setting down her book on her bedside table and turning so she faced the barren wall, away from Draco. 

 

Despite the heavy weight of the locket pressed against her chest, her heart felt empty.  _ Let this be the only night we fall asleep like this,  _ she thought before forcing her eyes shut and eventually drifting off into a restless sleep. 

 

It was unsurprising to her that wearing the locket to bed meant an awful night of sleep; between the tossing and turning, the unsettling dreams featuring large black shadows following her; Draco and Pansy laughing at her; Harry screaming at her for failing him; and a strange booming laugh that echoed continuously, Hermione felt as though she hadn’t slept a wink. When she rolled over and found the spot beside her empty, it only added to her irritability. 

 

Down in the kitchen she found Remus, Harry, and Ron sitting around the table, eating in silence. They looked up as she entered, and she gave them a silent nod. 

 

“Everything alright, Hermione?” she heard Remus ask from behind her as she crossed over to the cabinets to pull out a mug and a bowl. 

 

“That’s kind of a ridiculous question, Remus, don’t you think?” she snapped, filling the teapot with hot water and setting it on the stove.  

 

“Hermione...” Harry hissed, the clang of his fork ringing throughout the small kitchen. 

 

She sighed, hanging her head and gripping the edge of the counter. Silence followed as she took three deep breaths, anxious to get the Horcrux off of her. “Sorry, Remus,” she apologised, turning around to face him. The greying wizard looked more concerned than anything, only making her feel worse. “I got an awful night of sleep,” she explained, rubbing the heels of her hands against her eyes. It only made the pain in her head worse. 

 

Remus looked between the three of them, catching Harry and Ron’s knowing looks, and the miserable look on hers. He cleared his throat, gathered his half-empty plate and mug, and got up from his seat. Hermione shuffled her feet, avoiding looking at him directly, and watched beneath hooded eyes as he slowly made his way towards the hallway. 

 

“Why don’t I give you three some time alone?” he suggested. 

 

“Thanks, Remus,” Harry called after him. 

 

None of them made a sound until they were sure they could no longer hear Remus’s footsteps. When all was silent once more, Hermione heard the sound of wood scraping against wood, and a moment later, Harry stood in front of her. 

 

“I believe it’s my turn,” he said quietly, pulling her in a for brief hug. Before he released her, she felt his hands go to the back of her neck, grasping the chain of the locket. As she backed away, he lifted the locket over her head. 

 

As soon as the locket left her chest, she felt like she could breathe properly again. 

 

“Thank you,” she mumbled, feeling embarrassed by her snide remark to Remus. 

 

Hermione turned back to her mug, fixing her tea quickly and moving around Harry to fetch the cereal. Harry said nothing more before retreating back to the table to finish his breakfast. She was thankful that he hadn’t pressed her, as she’d realised how hungry she was now that she no longer bore the locket. 

 

The three of them ate in silence, while Ron and Harry cast each other worried glances over their plates. Hermione did her best to ignore the looks exchanged between them, but each one grated her. When she was nearly done her cereal and tea, they heard another set of footsteps entering the kitchen. 

 

“Morning,” Draco called from behind her. 

 

Hermione felt her body tense, but she turned around anyway, giving him a stern look. Ron and Harry grumbled in response to his greeting. She knew they could feel the tension in the air, but she couldn’t care less. She knew where Draco had disappeared to so early, and it didn’t sit well with her. 

 

“Don’t forget you’ve promised to help me with Tales of Beedle the Bard today,” she reminded him instead of returning his salutation. 

 

There was a pause, and a clang of dishes. Draco wasn’t facing her, but she saw the hanging of his head. Hermione pursed her lips, eyebrows furrowed and her irritability rising once more.

 

“Shit,” he said, turning to shoot her an apologetic look. “I forgot. I came down to fix Pansy and I breakfast and then we were going to go for a short walk.” 

 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, her arms now folded tightly across her chest. The remainder of her cereal was growing soggy, left forgotten in her bowl. Harry and Ron rose quickly from their chairs, depositing empty plates in the sink and excusing themselves from the kitchen. 

 

“You forgot?” she asked, her tone icy. Anger was boiling inside her now, despite the locket leaving her chest, and she had to gather the will to stay composed. 

 

Draco truly did look guilty, and sorry, but there was a hint of exasperation when he spoke. “We’re not really making much headway, are we? I have no bloody idea why Dumbledore left you that book, and even if I were to help Potter brainstorm  _ again _ , it’s not like we’re going to magically come up with the locations of the other Horcruxes, or the sword. Does it really matter whether I’m there to help or not?” 

 

Hermione was fuming now, her chest was heaving and her cheeks were growing hotter by the second. She opened her mouth to retort, to tell him it wasn’t about what he could offer, it was about keeping his promise, but no words came out. He’d become a part of this, and now he was bailing on them? 

 

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said softly, crossing the room, and gripping her shoulders. “Really, I am, but...Pansy needs me right now. I  _ swear  _ I’ll help you tomorrow, alright? All day, if you’d like.” 

 

“Fine,” she said. She didn’t have the energy at the moment for an argument, she was far too tired. “But  _ please  _ don’t bail on me again tomorrow, Draco.” 

 

Draco kissed the top of her head. “I won’t, don’t you worry.” 

 

Before she could respond, Draco pulled away and took the two plates he’d prepared for Pansy and himself. Hermione watched him disappear from the kitchen without so much as a backwards glance at her. She sighed, staring down at her soggy cereal, feeling defeated and alone.  _ I won’t worry when you actually show up,  _ she thought miserably. 

 

*****

 

Five days later, Hermione found herself once again locked away in the small study, pouring over the Tales of Beedle the Bard. She and Draco had hardly spoken much over the past forty-eight hours, chatting mostly at meals or stopping to peck one another on the cheek if they crossed paths, and of course, their brief interactions before going to sleep at night. To Hermione, it seemed as though Draco was spending majority of his time with Pansy. The newest addition to the cabin had still refused to come out of her room, her only exception being grabbing a quick bite to eat at breakfast and lunch. Normally, Hermione would talk to Harry or Ron when she was frustrated, but as this was partially classified as a relationship issue in her mind, she felt that they weren’t necessarily the best candidates. Andromeda was currently at her own home, Ginny was still at Hogwarts, Molly only ever came for meetings, and even Remus seemed unavailable for a chat. 

 

If her chest was bare from the heavy weight of the locket, it all seemed manageable; her distancing boyfriend, the war, finding the sword, the damned children’s book...but once the locket slipped around her neck, all bets were off. She had made one rule for herself, however, after she had broken down in tears the previous day. She’d been going over the same book that sat in front of her now, when she realized her eyes had gone glossy and her thoughts had wandered to Draco and Pansy once more, and tears had begun to flow and all the emotions she’d been feeling for the previous days had come pouring out. It was the first time she had cracked while wearing the blasted thing, and she had sworn it would be her last. She could not let her distracting, upsetting thoughts distract her from their task. None of them had the faintest idea where to look next for another Horcrux, it was still a complete mystery as to where the sword of Gryffindor was, and she could tell Harry was growing increasingly anxious. 

 

Hermione had handed off the locket to Ron before she retreated to the study, eager to take another crack at the book. Her eagerness faded quickly, however, and the frustration that had been laying dormant began to boil.  _ You would be doing the same if it were Harry or Ron,  _ she reminded herself.  _ But would I?  _ She questioned.  _ Would I not at least try to split my time equally? _

 

Her thoughts were quickly interrupted when a knock came at the door. Hermione nearly fell out of the chair, and after quickly scrambling to her feet, she found her wand and flicked it at the knob. There was a click, and the doorknob turned. Narcissa stood in the doorway, a brief look of surprise on her elegant features. 

 

“Oh, Hermione,” she said, stepping in and shutting the door behind her. “I thought it might be you who was in here.” 

 

“No one besides me,” she replied, turning back to the book lying open on the table. 

 

She heard the swishing of Narcissa’s robes as the older witch made her way across the study, before pulling out a chair and sitting down beside her. Hermione felt Narcissa’s gaze on her, unwavering and already burning a hole in the side of her head. It didn’t take long for Hermione to pull away from her book, afraid of the expression she might see on Narcissa’s face. To her surprise, there was a hint of a smirk, and with a tug at her heart she was reminded of Draco. 

 

“It’s no surprise you’re bothered by my son’s absence,” she said placidly. 

 

“I’m not--” 

 

Narcissa shot her a knowing look, silencing Hermione. She felt her cheeks burn, and her gaze fell back to the table. “Is it that obvious?” 

 

“I can tell you love my son deeply, Hermione,” Narcissa said, a note of tenderness in her voice. The older witch placed a pale hand over Hermione’s, squeezing it gently. “But I am afraid you do not yet completely understand him, or rather, you do understand the values of a Slytherin.”

 

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, now offended and a bit angry, but Narcissa held up a finger. 

 

“Allow me to continue,” she said, lowering her hand. “Slytherins value loyalty just as Gryffindors value it, perhaps not in the same ways, but regardless, it is a shared value between the two houses. Draco, from my understanding, was detached from his friends this past school year. The friends he has had since he was two years old suddenly had no idea what was going on in his life, and he in theirs. After learning what Pansy has been through, it has left Draco feeling guilty and ashamed. Now...he is trying to make up for that. For lost time, for his behavior, even if he did have good reason. His friends are important to him, Hermione, as yours are to you.” 

 

When Narcissa finished, Hermione remained silent. She hadn’t thought about all of that. Draco had told her plenty of times during the school year that his friends weren’t really his friends, but was that the truth? Was he perhaps just telling himself that to make it easier to push them away, to keep his secret safe? She couldn’t blame him for feeling guilty, for wanting to make things right between a friendship. She would want to do the same. 

 

“Draco loves you just as much as you love him,” Narcissa said when the seconds continued to tick by and still she had not spoken. “But you need to let him take care of this.” 

 

Finally, Hermione nodded, still processing everything Narcissa had just said. She forced herself to take a deep breath, and pushed her hair away from her face. The frustration she had been feeling when she first secluded herself in the study faded, replacing itself with shame. All the events of this past week seemed to play over in her head, and it was only now that she realized how foolish she had been acting. She couldn’t fully blame it on the locket, as she wasn’t wearing it all the time, but it made her feel slightly better that at least her paranoia and anger wasn’t  _ all  _ her. 

 

“You’re right,” she said quietly, unable to look Narcissa in the eye. “He’s never given me a reason not to trust him, well,” she chuckled to herself, remembering the secret he’d kept from her for months, “at least when it came to us. Thank you.” 

 

Narcissa was smiling faintly when Hermione finally met her gaze. “Of course, dear. Now, I don’t know about you, but I am starved. Shall we see about some dinner?”

 

Hermione wanted to tell her no, and get back to studying The Tales of Beedle the Bard, but at the mention of food her stomach grumbled loudly. She smiled sheepishly at Narcissa, who chuckled quietly. 

 

“Dinner sounds wonderful, actually,” Hermione said as both women stood up and headed for the door. 

  
  


******

 

“He wouldn’t have hidden a Horcrux at the orphanage,” Harry repeated. “He hated it there.” 

 

“I know, Harry,” she said, hiding her exasperation. “But we don’t have any other leads and--”

 

“We’re stagnant,” Draco cut in bluntly. “We have the locket, yes, but we have no means of destroying it. Besides, wouldn’t it be better to definitively say the Orphanage was a dead end? We’d just be sitting back in the cabin, debating our next move.” 

 

“Shouldn’t we be looking for the sword, then?” Ron chimed in. 

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “If we had any idea as to  _ where  _ we could look, don’t you think we’d already be out there?” 

 

“Draco,” Hermione said sharply, casting him a stern look and laying a hand on his arm. She then turned her attention to Ron. “He’s right, though, Ron. We have no idea where the sword is, and without any inkling of an idea, it’s too much ground to cover.” 

 

“It was just an idea,” he grumbled, fidgeting with his wand. 

 

Silence fell over the four of them, the sound of the fire crackling in front of them. Hermione hugged her legs to her chest, fixing her gaze on the dancing flames. It felt as though they couldn’t agree on anything these days. 

 

“Maybe you’re right, Malfoy,” Harry said after several minutes of silence. 

 

Hermione’s head snapped up, looking from Harry to Draco, who was looking at Harry as though he couldn’t believe his ears. She rolled her eyes as she saw a smirk creep up Draco’s lips. 

 

“Did you just admit I’m right about something, Potter?” Draco asked, the smugness clear in his voice. 

 

“Watch it,” Harry said with a firm look. Draco looked momentarily taken aback by Harry’s tone but didn’t utter another word. “It feels...wrong to be sitting around doing nothing...I mean, not nothing,” he glanced sheepishly at Hermione, “but we’re not...out there, searching. And even if I’m certain he wouldn’t hide one at the orphanage, at least seeing it with our own eyes will be confirmation for all of us. We can move on after that.” 

 

The four of them exchanged glances, murmuring in agreement. 

 

“Let’s get planning then,” Hermione said, grabbing a fresh roll of parchment and a quill from the table near by. 

 

*****

 

It took them only hours to plan for the tiny excursion, mainly because Harry was certain that Voldemort would have no protection around the place he hated most. Hermione was wary of this decision, but had decided she’d had enough of arguing for a while. They had their wands, their coins, and the cloak. They  _ should  _ be perfectly safe. There was still a tiny voice in the back of her mind asking all of the “what if’s”, but she pushed them away and forced herself to focus on the task at hand. 

 

“We’ll leave a note,” Draco said, scribbling out a vague message to the rest of the Order and leaving it on the kitchen table while the rest of them waited in the hall. 

 

With Hermione’s beaded bag packed, their wands tucked away, coins in their pockets, and the cloak fitted around the four of them the best they could manage, they slipped out the front door as quietly as they could and walked until they reached a point just beyond the protective enchantments around the cabin. The four joined hands, Hermione giving Draco’s a tight squeeze.

 

“Ready?” she whispered, already picturing the Orphanage that they would arrive at in a few moments. 

 

The three boys nodded. Hermione inhaled, squeezed her eyes shut, focused solely on the depressing building, and spun. 

 

The night air was cool, the wind whipping gently around them, ruffling the cloak that kept them hidden. Before them stood a modern office building several stories high, with floor to ceiling windows covering every side. In front of her, Hermione saw Harry shake his head and sigh. Ron let a small stream of curses under his breath. 

 

“They got rid of it,” Draco murmured. 

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry replied, a trace of bitterness and disappointment in his voice. “He wouldn’t have hidden one here anyway.” 

 

“Should we go back to the cabin then?” Ron whispered. 

 

“No,” Hermione said before any of the others could respond. “I mean, it...it hasn’t been very long at all since we left, and we left a note. Let’s just...let’s camp out for a night. It’s been awhile since we’ve gotten out of the cabin, and maybe a change of atmosphere will help us clear our heads.” 

 

In truth, she didn’t want to return to the cabin just to have Draco tell her he would check to see if Pansy was awake. She’d barely spent any time together with him since Pansy had arrived, and she was eager for just one night with him, even if Ron and Harry were in their company. Her talk with Narcissa had opened her eyes, and helped her loosen up a bit, but it didn’t stop her from missing Draco. 

 

“I could use a break from that cabin,” Harry agreed, running a hand through his hair. “Malfoy? Ron? What do you say?” 

 

Ron and Draco grumbled incoherently, clearly not pleased with her suggestion. Hermione knew Ron just wanted to be back in the warmth, with a hearty stock of food and a comfortable bed, but Draco’s displeasure stung. 

 

“Right then,” Hermione said, lifting her chin in false confidence and trying to hide the tremble in her voice, “everybody still holding hands?” 

 

“Yes,” the three chorused back to her. 

 

“Three…” she started, focusing her mind on the woods she knew were only a few miles outside of the small town, “two...one.” 

 

She felt the air leave her lungs as they turned into the night once more. After a few seconds of feeling like she was being squeezed through a tight tube, her feet landed on solid ground, and an owl hooted from nearby, disturbed from their arrival. She felt the cloak being pulled off of her, and the chilly night air hit her cheeks. She could hardly make out the silhouettes of the three boys beside her. Above her, the tree tops blocked out the night sky, dimming the moonlight that shone above. 

 

“Harry, Ron, grab the tent. Draco, help me set up the wards,” she said, fumbling for her wand. 

 

Draco said nothing as he pulled out his wand and walked in the opposite direction. She turned her head, and was just barely able to see his white blonde hair only twenty feet away, arm raised to the sky. Hermione turned back, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. 

 

“ _ Protego totalum _ ,” she murmured, moving her wand appropriately, ignoring the heaviness in her chest, and blinking back the tears forming in her eyes. 

 

****

 

**Draco**

 

He heard the ruffling of the tent flaps and the crunching of leaves under sneakers. When he turned his head, he saw Hermione standing next to him, staring at him apprehensively. 

 

“Could I sit down?” she asked, pulling her jumper tighter around her, shivering. 

 

Draco nodded before turning his gaze back to the darkness. All was silent in the forest, save the ruffling of leaves in the wind. Hermione settled in next to him, their sides touching. He could feel her looking at him, but he wanted to remain alert. If she wanted to talk, he would listen, but out here in the forest with minimal protection, he didn’t want to risk looking away. This was the only reason he would have rather returned to the cabin after their discovery that the Orphanage had been demolished; he felt vulnerable... naked. The feeling didn’t sit well with him. 

 

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something,” he heard Hermione say quietly. From the corner of his eye, he could see she had pulled her legs up to her chest. “About the whole Pansy thing...and how I’ve handled it.” 

 

“Hermione, is this really the best--” he started to say, but she placed a hand on his arm. 

 

“Just listen, please,” she begged. “That’s all you have to do. I had a talk with your mother yesterday, or rather, she had a talk with me. You see, before yesterday, I was starting to think you cared more about Pansy than you do about me. I thought that this mission, and our relationship were...were becoming less important to you--” 

 

“That’s ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head, and perhaps sounding harsher than he intended. 

 

“I know that now,” Hermione said, withdrawing her hand from his arm. “Whenever I wore the locket...it was all I could think. It...it skewed everything. When I wasn’t wearing it, I could think rationally, but you were still spending all this time with Pansy and we were hardly speaking and I just… I was so confused, and worried, and jealous--”

It was then that he tore his gaze away from the forest, locking eyes with Hermione and firmly grasping her by the shoulders. He inhaled deeply and said, “Hermione, you  _ never  _ have to worry about that. Not just with Pansy, but with anyone.  _ You  _ are it for me. I love  _ you  _ and nothing will change that, alright?” 

 

He could see the trembling smile on her lips. “I know,” she said softly. “I know, and I’m so sorry that I ever doubted you. I know now that you were trying to make amends with Pansy to make up for lost time. I respect that, truly I do, because I know I would do the same for Harry and Ron.” 

 

Draco slipped an arm around her waist and drew her closer to him, planting a kiss on her temple. 

 

“I love you too, you know, more than words could ever explain,” she murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder. 

 

Draco smiled and sighed. “I know, love. I may never understand why, but I know.”  

 

****

 

**Hermione**

 

They had sat in silence for what felt like hours, but when she glanced down at her watch she saw only forty minutes had passed. She didn’t mind the silence this time; the wall that had formed between them had been torn down, and she’d been able to enjoy the warmth of his body next to hers, focusing on the sound of his breathing. She had missed this, just being in his company. 

 

It was only when the question flitted into her mind that she broke the silence. 

 

“Is Pansy going to be alright, Draco?” she asked, running her hand up and down his forearm. 

 

“Physically, yes,” he said after a moment’s pause. “Emotionally, I’m not so sure.”

 

“Tell me what happened,” she said, closing her hand around his arm. “Not because I’m nosy,” she added when she felt him stiffen, “because I genuinely  _ care _ . She’s hardly come out of her room and it’s been over a week since she’s arrived. She begged your mother to help her in Hogsmeade, and according to her, Pansy was hysterical.” 

 

Draco sighed. “I don’t know...she told me not to tell anyone…” He paused, wringing his hands and biting his lip as he contemplated. He turned to her, but only briefly before returning his gaze to the forest, “Listen, if I tell you, you have to promise me you won’t go telling anyone else, alright? She’d kill me if the whole house ended up knowing.” 

 

“Draco, please,” she said indignantly. “Isn’t it obvious that I’m good at keeping secrets? This whole mission we’re on? Our relationship? I really do want to try and form a friendship with her, even if it's going to be difficult. But I feel like not understanding her position completely makes initiating the entire process harder for me. The last thing I want to do is say something insensitive or sound stupid or--” she had started to ramble, and was only silenced when Draco chuckled and squeezed her gently. 

 

“Relax,” he said, his voice soft. “You’ve made your point. Alright,” he sighed, running his free hand through his hair and looking up at the tree tops, a few stars poking through, twinkling faintly. “It started not long after the start of this school year,” he said. “Pansy realised what a Hogwarts under You-Know-Who’s rule was really like. The Carrow twins were torturing and punishing students, Snape was doing nothing to help the students, and she didn’t know where to turn...or what to do. She’d written to her parents, hinting at how much Hogwarts had changed, that she’d wanted to come home. They weren’t writing back, not once did she get a reply. So...she started asking around, hoping that maybe someone knew what happened to her parents, hoping to find out why they weren’t answering--” 

 

“Did anyone know? I mean, there has to be a reasonable explanation,” Hermione interrupted, her brows furrowed in concern. 

 

Draco shook his head. “No, no one knew anything. Anyway, the Carrows had heard about what Pansy was doing, from the letter writing to asking other students about her parents’ whereabouts, and...they overheard her comforting a first year who’d been tortured at the hands of the Carrows. They heard her telling the little girl she wanted to go home, too,” he paused again, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing. “They tortured her, Hermione,” he said through clenched teeth, his body shaking with anger. 

 

Hermione gasped. She couldn’t believe this was what Hogwarts had turned into; the one place in the world that was supposed to be safe… Even that had been ruined. Her mind jumped to Ginny and Neville, and sweet Luna, and her stomach grew sick. Were they safe? Had they been tortured too? Would they make it out of there alive?  _ No,  _ she scolded,  _ Don’t even think about that.  _

 

“Did she--” she cleared her throat, “Did she ever find out what happened to her parents?” 

 

Draco sighed again, hanging his head low. 

 

“Her parents abandoned her, Hermione,” he whispered. “They just left. No goodbye, nothing.” 

 

Draco was stiff beside her, sniffling and staring out into the dark forest. The wind ruffled the dead leaves on the forest floor, branches creaking in the night. Hermione shivered, hugging her jacket closer to her body. 

 

“Wow,” she breathed. “Draco, that’s...that’s  _ awful. _ ” 

 

She couldn’t even form words. Everything that Draco had just told her still had her mind reeling. The image of Pansy comforting a child was hard to imagine, yet Draco had heard it from her first hand. Pansy had wanted to go home, she had wanted her parents... She’d wanted to be safe. There was a lump in her throat now. She swallowed hard, and cleared her throat. 

 

“I, uh… I don’t know what to say,” she spoke again, her voice thick. “Is she going to look for them?” 

 

“No,” he said, sounding surprised that she’d even asked. His brows were furrowed, his mouth set in a slight frown. “I mean, that was where she had wanted to go when she managed to escape Hogwarts, but when she got caught in Hogsmeade the plans changed… And now that she’s staying with us. She’s doubtful they’ll even be at their home.” 

 

They sat in silence for several minutes before she spoke again. 

 

“Maybe...maybe she should look some day,” she said. “Maybe  _ we  _ should. All of us.” 

 

Draco cocked his head, his lips spreading into a wide smile before he leaned down to kiss her. His lips were warm, the kiss slow and tender. Hermione snaked a hand around the back of his neck and pressed her body against his the best she could. She felt every muscle in her body relax as warmth spread throughout every inch of her. He deepened the kiss for just a moment, holding her tight as she sighed into his mouth. 

 

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, staring deeply into her eyes. 

“I love you so much, Hermione,” he whispered, his breath tickling her nose. 

 

She smiled, biting her lip. A heat rushed to her cheeks as she murmured, “I love you too, Draco.” 

 

******

 

**Draco**

 

Draco turned the page of the book in his lap, while running his other hand up and down Hermione’s calf absent-mindedly. He could hear the scratching of her quill against parchment and the occasional muttering when she talked to herself. The fire crackled in the grate, radiating its warmth onto the two of them. He was grateful that things between him and Hermione had since returned to normal. He gave her calf a squeeze, causing her to look up from the parchment and smile at him. 

 

She returned to her scroll of parchment and he turned his gaze back to the book in his lap, but it wasn’t long before they heard the sound of approaching footsteps and the low voices of Remus and Narcissa. 

 

Hermione must have heard them as well, as she removed her legs from his lap and tucked them under her bum. Draco set aside his book, turning around to see the two of them looking rather tense as they entered the living room. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, frowning at the look on their faces. 

 

Remus and Narcissa did not answer right away. They each took a seat on the loveseat, Narcissa locking eyes with Draco and Remus looking down at the floor. His leg was bouncing incessantly as he chewed on his lip, clearly trying to formulate his words. Draco started to grow anxious; his palms began to sweat and his heart rate picked up. He hated when the Order Members did this: kept them waiting in suspense. 

 

“Draco,” Narcissa said softly. “There have been...whispers of your father being sighted.” 

 

“So he’s alive?” he said, leaning forward as excitement flooded through him. Hermione laid a hand on his thigh. He could feel her eyes on him, but he didn’t look at her. He was waiting for an answer to his question. 

 

“We can’t say for sure,” Remus said, finally lifting his head. “We have no leads as to whereabouts or any evidence that these rumors are true. A few members of the Order are still investigating but, well... It’s tricky at this point.” 

 

Draco looked back and forth between Remus and his mother. Her mouth was set in a thin line, but her eyebrows were scrunched together and he could see her tensing her jaw. 

 

“Well you have to keep investigating!” he said finally, excitement and anxiety flooding through his body. He scooted forward to the edge of the sofa, eyes wide and heart pounding. “He could still be alive. If Death Eaters find him first…”

 

“Draco,” Narcissa said quietly. “The Order is aware of the urgency--”

 

“But we’re trying not to lose any of our own in the process,” Remus finished calmly. “We’re already struggling in this War, we needn’t lose any more lives.” 

 

Draco said nothing. Instead he clenched his fists and forced himself to bite his tongue. It was no use shouting, and his mother would only scold him. He sat there, fuming, staring down at the rug beneath his feet. Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a firm squeeze.

 

“Narcissa, Draco,” Remus said, looking at them earnestly. “We will do everything we can to try and track down Lucius, but we will do so with great caution. And Draco,” Remus’s voice grew stern, “we beg that you do not go looking for him. I would have said forbid, however, you are of age and are legally allowed to do what you please.” 

 

Draco nodded, reaching for his mother’s hand and gripped it firmly. When he glanced over at her, she could see that her eyes were watering but she kept her gaze firmly on Remus, her mouth set in a thin line. 

 

“Draco,” Remus spoke again, his tone softer this time. “Do I have your understanding?” 

 

“Yes,” Draco ground out, forcing himself to look the older wizard in the eye. 

 

“Good,” Remus breathed, standing quickly and excusing himself quietly. His mother followed not seconds after, keeping her face hidden as she left. 

 

It was just him and Hermione now, alone with the weight of the news. His father was out there somewhere, probably, and he was supposed to just sit around and wait for the Order to find him. Inside Draco’s mind, a battle of thoughts raged. His father had rejected the Order’s protection, had chosen to abandon his family at the time, and for that, Draco was still furious. But Lucius was still his father, a man he once idolised, a man he still loved. He wanted him found, and he wanted him safe, no matter what had happened in the past. 

 

“They’re going to find him,” Hermione’s voice rang out in the thick silence. “Draco, look at me,” her voice was sharper this time, louder. 

 

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, looking at her with narrowed eyes and his jaw set. He sounded harsher than he meant to and it was evident in the look on her face. But his tone hadn’t phased her for long; she lifted her chin ever so slightly, a spark lighting in her eyes. 

 

“You trust me, right?” she asked, her voice surprisingly no louder than a whisper. 

 

“Yes,” he answered, unsure of where she was going with this. 

 

“Then just,” she paused, turning so she sat facing him, and gripped both his hands in hers. Her hands were tiny compared to his, leaving plenty of pale white flesh exposed. “Trust me on this, alright? They  _ will  _ find him.” 

 

Draco looked up at her, finding it hard to believe her words. The Order wasn’t even sure his father was alive, that was yet to still be confirmed. And so, when she pulled him for a hug, he kept his mouth shut, merely nodding his head before resting it on her shoulder, because he couldn’t bring himself to ask the one question that had been playing itself over and over again since Remus had left.

 

_ What if they find him dead? What then?  _

 

*****

 

**Pansy**

 

When Pansy saw the living room was barren, she quickly snatched a blanket from the closet close by and curled up on a sofa closest to a large window. It had started to storm not long ago, and she would have a better view of it from here opposed to her bedroom. Besides, this was the first time she’d had an urge to leave her bedroom and she wasn’t going to waste it. 

 

She settled on the sofa, wrapping the blanket around her, and listened to the rain pounding against the roof and windows. The sound was soothing, allowing the muscles in her body to relax for the first time in ages. Her eyes drifted shut as thunder crashed overhead, and she allowed her thoughts to drift to her parents. Were they safe? Were they trying to figure out a way to contact her that wouldn’t result in them being caught? Had they run off to their home in Italy? Were they thinking of her like she was thinking of them? 

 

The subtle sound of footsteps jolted Pansy from her thoughts. Her head snapped up from the back of the sofa, and her eyes narrowed at the person standing before her. 

 

“Oh,” Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes cast at the ground. “I, er, didn’t know you were in here.” 

 

“Well I am,” she snapped, turning to look out the window. “And I’d like to be left alone, so leave.” 

 

“You can’t just tell me to leave,” he said hotly. Pansy smirked; he really did have a short temper. “This isn’t  _ your  _ cabin.” 

 

Pansy turned to look at him again, the smirk now gone from her lips and replaced with a small frown. “Fair point,” she said. “But you  _ could  _ respect my desire to be left alone.” 

 

Ron said nothing at first, instead stepping further into the living room. Pansy rolled her eyes, turning back to the window once more. Maybe if she ignored him he would go away on his own. 

 

“I didn’t know you’d be in here, but now that you are I just… I want to see how you’re doing. You seemed really freaked that night in Hogsmeade,” he said tentatively, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. 

 

_ Bold move, Weasley,  _ she thought irritably. 

 

She could feel his gaze on her, but she kept her eyes focused on the rain spattering against the window.  _ Why did he have to bring up that night?  _ She closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could feel the rain on her skin. Pansy lifted her chin, swallowing before she answered him.

 

“Did I?” she said, her voice flat. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” Ron said. “You were crying and--”

 

“I remember,” she said harshly, glaring at him now. “And if it will make you stop talking, I’m  _ fine  _ now.” 

 

There was a moment’s pause. His cheeks had turned bright red, almost matching his hair. He smiled awkwardly, barely looking at her. 

 

“Good,” he said, “good. Do you mind if I sit here for a bit? Watch the storm?” 

 

Pansy scoffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “What’s the matter, friends don’t want your company? Granger stuffing her tongue down Draco’s throat?” 

 

Ron grimaced in disgust. “Do they do that often? Nevermind, don’t answer that,” he said quickly when she arched an eyebrow. “They don’t, actually -- want my company right now. Hermione and Malfoy are in their bedroom, and Harry wanted to be left alone.” 

 

Pansy sighed, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “I don’t care what you do, Weasley,” she said. “But no talking, I’m not in the mood.” 

 

Ron nodded solemnly, mimicking her position and resting his chin on the back of the sofa. As she turned her head slowly back to the window, she saw a faint smile appear on his lips. Something tugged at her heart, and she couldn’t help the tug of her own lips as she heard another crack of thunder rumble through the sky. 

 

*****

 

**Hermione**

 

Several nights later, Hermione found Pansy curled up on the sofa, watching the fire roar in front of her, with a blanket over her legs and a blank expression on her face. Hermione took a breath, and sat down in an arm chair close by. Pansy gave no sign that she knew Hermione was there; she didn’t move, nor did she glance in her direction. Perhaps Pansy didn’t want the company, but after learning what she’d had been through, Hermione felt a strong inclination to try and form some sort of friendship with the Slytherin. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it felt like to be abandoned. 

 

There was no denying the tension growing in the air, but Hermione wasn’t easily deterred. Pansy could be short with her, or ignore her outright, but it wasn’t going to stop her from trying. 

 

“How are you?” Hermione asked, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. 

 

Pansy sighed, flicking her hair as she raised her head, an eyebrow raised as she shot Hermione a skeptical look. “You want to know how I’m doing?” 

 

“Yes,” Hermione said simply, her voice unwavering. 

 

Pansy scoffed and rolled her eyes. “First Weasley and now you,” she said. 

 

“Ron asked you -- Nevermind...” Hermione said, with a shake of her head. “Seriously, Pansy, I mean it. How are you?” 

 

Pansy glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. The Slytherin sighed, leaning her head back before she said, “Fine, I suppose. Draco’s been...helpful. It’s very uncomfortable for me, being among all these Order Members and what not.” 

 

“Understandable,” Hermione replied, keeping her tone light and friendly. “Listen, Pansy,” she said, feeling a strong urge to cut to the chase. She couldn’t stand small talk and she got the idea that Pansy didn’t either. “Draco told me what happened...with your parents--”

 

“Did he?” Pansy asked, her head snapping to stare directly at Hermione, nostrils flaring and eyes wide. Hermione watched her clench her jaw, and saw her hands ball into tiny fists. “He shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t want anyone to know.” 

 

“I know,” Hermione said, feeling guilty now that she gave Draco away. “And it wasn’t Draco’s fault, I mean, he didn’t volunteer the information. I...I pressed him pretty hard. Don’t be angry with him, please. I was genuinely curious and I really do want to try and be friends…” 

 

Pansy shot her a skeptical look, though only briefly. “I don’t need your pity,” she said. 

 

“And I won’t give it to you,” Hermione assured her, excitement building inside her.  _ Maybe we’re starting to get somewhere,  _ she thought. 

 

Silence fell between them. It seemed as though Pansy was ignoring her once again.  _ It’s now or never, Hermione, just say it!  _ She urged herself, knowing that Pansy wouldn’t be the one to approach the subject. 

 

“We should go look for them,” Hermione said firmly, yet quietly. 

 

Pansy’s head snapped up, eyes narrowed and questioning against Hermione’s determined gaze. She felt Pansy trying to read her, trying to figure out whether she was serious or not. 

“What?” Pansy breathed. She shifted in her seat, fully turning to face Hermione now. “Why...why do you want to do something nice for me?” 

 

Hermione inhaled deeply, running her hands along her thighs. She swallowed, images of her own parents flashing before her eyes. “Because,” she said, voice shaking despite her efforts to keep it steady, “because inside we’re all just children wanting to be safe, to feel loved, to be with the ones who swore from day one that they would always protect us.” 

 

Pansy nodded once, slowly, then broke her gaze once more. Her face glowed orange in the light of the fire, illuminating the sharpness of her features. 

 

“Maybe...maybe someday,” Pansy said almost inaudibly. “I’m not ready yet. I don’t want...nevermind. I can’t even believe I’m talking about this with you.” 

 

Hermione chuckled. “Neither can I,” she said. “But this war has found us in unexpected places, and who are we to question it?”

 

*****

 

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she could tell something was wrong. There was an anxious buzzing in the air. She looked to her left and saw the bed was empty, the sheet thrown back carelessly. Hermione threw the sheet off of her, quickly changed into jeans, and a sweater, and practically raced out of the room. She found everyone in the living room, huddled around Andromeda. Their voices were hushed, and a faint sobbing sound came from the witch in the middle of the group. Hermione’s heart plummeted into her stomach. 

 

She had opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but there was no need. Draco had looked up, as though he’d known she’d arrived. He locked eyes with her, and just by his expression she could tell something was terribly wrong. His face was white and his mouth was set in a grim line. With a flick of his wrist, he motioned for her to come closer. Her legs shook with every step she took, and when she reached Draco’s side, she felt his face next to his hers, his breath warm on her cheek. 

 

“Ted’s run off,” he whispered. “Left a note for Andromeda, telling her it was too dangerous for him to hang around. We think he went into hiding, no one else knows anything.” 

 

Hermione gasped, turning her head to look up at him in shock. A huge part of her was relieved to hear he hadn’t been killed, but these circumstances weren’t much better. Initially, she questioned why Ted would think it necessary to run away, to go into hiding, and then it dawned on her. She felt like someone just punched her in the stomach, as her heart started to pound, and anxiety flooded her veins.  _ Ted’s a muggleborn...yet he’s stayed at this safe house before...their house was under protection as well...or so I thought… _

 

Was there something the Order wasn’t telling them? Why did Ted feel as though he couldn’t stay at the cabin, or another safe house? Had he done something? No...surely that couldn’t be the reason. Had the note been a fake? Did Ted really disappear of his own accord, or had something more sinister happened? Was she in more grave danger than she’d first thought? Of course she knew she was one high on the Death Eater’s list; muggle-born and best friend of Harry Potter. This did nothing to comfort her, however. If Ted Tonks, an alliance of the Order, felt he needed to run, then what did that mean for her? 


End file.
